Away in a Murder Read online

  After we were seated Shirley handed our menus to us, took our drink orders and headed for the kitchen. A moment later, Minerva came out and walked over to our table. She greeted us with a hug then pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Hi, guys,” Minerva said. “Sorry I hid you in the corner, but that reporter guy, Al Learner, is here. I didn’t want him to see you before you were ready to talk to him, Misty. Frank called me and told me what happened today. Besides, this way you can stake him out before he sees you.”

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “He’s over in that corner.” She pointed to where he was sitting. “We put him in the back because he’s been mean to everyone since he got to the hotel. And every other word out of his mouth is a nasty one. I’d almost swear he was drunk, but he’s not. He’s just mean.”

  Frankie and I looked over to where Minerva was trying to point, without looking like she was pointing. Seated at a table was a man wearing a button down shirt that was probably very expensive and was definitely well tailored. His hair was impeccable, and I wondered how much gel it took to make it that way. From what I could tell, he was reasonably fit and had some muscle tone. His face however, ruined the rest of the picture. He was probably in his late fifties if I had to guess. He was good looking and had very few wrinkles, don’t get me wrong. But his face was in a scowl and that aged him. Right now the scowl was directed at his server. She was a petite but feisty young thing named Delia. She was holding her own with him. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t rude either. I was proud of the way she was handling the situation.

  “Do you really expect me to eat this slop?” he yelled. As he was saying it he swept his arm across the table. This action sent his plate, his silverware and his glass all crashing to the floor. And he managed to splash food and drink not only on Delia but also on the lady at the table next to him. The man she was with stood up and yelled at Al.

  Delia was trying to talk them both down, but it wasn’t working. I could see that her face was getting red and her fists were balled up. Her tone may have been calm, but she wasn’t calm inside.

  “Looks, like I’ll be giving her a free meal,” Minerva said. She took a deep breath. “I’d better go handle this.”

  She got up and walked over to the couple who were now busily wiping food off of the lady’s silk blouse. I heard her apologize to the lady. The man said something and angrily pointed to Al. Al then stood up and got face to face with the man. The woman was pulling at the man, sensibly trying to get him away from Al. The man must have listened to her because he turned around and started walking away. I thought it was over but, that was when Al grabbed the man by the shoulder and turned him around. Then Al screamed, “You can’t walk away from me,” and punched the guy in the face.

  It was then that security finally arrived. They grabbed Al and took him out of the room. Then they tended to the man that Al had punched. They offered to call an ambulance for the man, but he refused. I was secretly hoping they’d call the police and have Al locked up. Then the interview might have to be canceled. Oh, and because he deserved it.

  Minerva was talking to the lady in a voice so low I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She was holding the lady’s hands in hers. The lady was nodding and her face was starting to relax. Minerva was working her magic. She could take a hold of any situation and make everything right again. I envied that. Watching her I wished I could get her to teach me how to do that.

  The couple left, not quite smiling, but not looking as upset as they had been.

  After she made everything ok, Minerva walked back to our table. She did not sit down this time. “Misty, do you think you can take something off that couple’s bill? I did give them a complementary meal, but the man is really angry,” she said. “Not that I blame him.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’ll talk to the manager on duty before I leave. Maybe we’ll even add it to Al Learner’s bill.” That was a joke. I think. Could I do that?

  “Misty, you are a wonder. Now, let me send your food out. I made something special for you.” She winked at me and walked back in to the kitchen.

  “Mom, you can’t do this interview,” Frankie said. “You can’t handle that guy. He’s mean. You’re not used to mean people.” He really looked worried. Maybe my panic attack today scared him more than I thought.

  Little did Frankie know about what his mom could really handle. I was already planning my strategy against Al the terrible. First, I noticed that Al was about my height, maybe a little shorter. That meant I would wear the highest heels I could. I wanted to force him to look up at me. I wanted to make him feel little. Just like he had done to people here tonight. Not just the couple, but everyone who witnessed the altercation.

  Second, from watching him I learned that no matter he said or did, what I needed to do was keep my facial expression and my voice calm. The worse he got the calmer I needed to be. I would talk to him like he was a small child. I wasn’t planning to talk down to him, but no matter what he did I needed to keep an “awe isn’t that cute” attitude. No doubt he was going to try to push as many of my buttons as he could. All I had to do was turn off the switch and not react. That should really get him mad.

  “Oh, what an ass!” Frankie said pulling me out of my daydream.

  “Frankie, not so loud.” Was he forgetting where we were? “Who’s an ass?” I had to ask.

  “That Al Learner guy. I was just going to leave a review on line for Festival De La Manatee. But, he already did. He gave her no stars and really trashed the restaurant, the hotel, and even Minerva herself. He said her food tasted like rubber.”

  “What an ass!” I said.

  “That’s what I said. Oh, cool, someone recorded the fight and just posted it complete with audio.”

  “Who?” I said looking round the room.

  “Me.” He gave me his little boy smile that let him get away with so much.

  “That’s my boy.” I said and I meant it.

  The server brought our meals over. Frankie and I didn’t say a word as we enjoyed our delectably prepared food. My steak was one that made you just close your eyes after each and every bite. You wanted nothing to come between you and the flavor. Everything was perfect. I could probably eat here five days a week and never get tired of it.

  How could Al call Minerva’s food slop? She was a classically trained chef who graduated from one of the world’s best known culinary schools. Then, she trained in Paris. The man obviously had no taste. Maybe Al’s idea of gourmet food was fast food drive through.

  What an idiot. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. I was ready to do battle.

  Chapter 4: The Interview From, Well, You Know Where

  The next morning I awoke early. I showered and dressed slowly, taking my time to ensure that everything was perfect. I wore a very professional, well cut suit that would reveal very little skin, but still managed to complement my figure. And it hid my little tummy. I was getting older and I accepted a little tummy as a part of the process. I hated exercise, but I still got plenty by walking around the park and I danced when no one was around to see me. I felt very good as I looked in the mirror.

  Frankie had left for work even earlier. He wanted to ensure that things were prepared for the interview. So, I walked to work alone this morning. I felt great. As I entered my park I could see and hear things that were so familiar to me that they were comforting. I was sad that I had to skip my regular lap around the park today. The interview was more important and I had to prepare for it. Maybe I’ll get a walk in afterward, I told myself.

  When I got to the theater where the interview was to take place, I was met by Frankie, Nigel, Frank, Marlowe, Jerome, one of our lawyers, and William. My entourage. Cool, I had an entourage! Wait, why was William here? I expected everyone else but not William.

  “William, don’t get me wrong I’m glad to see you and all, but why are you here?” I asked him.

  “I am serving as your clergy,” he said smiling.

&nb
sp; “My clergy?”

  “Yes, I am here to bless the interview and to pray for you. I’ll even throw in a prayer for that mean man’s soul while I’m at it. Lord knows he needs it.”

  “Well, thank you. I appreciate that,” I told him honestly.

  William was the pastor of a store front church. His church was located in a neighborhood which he was instrumental in reforming. He helped get rid of the gangs and cleaned the place up. Now it might not be the richest neighborhood in the city of Neuspech, but it was one of the safest and happiest.

  “We’re all set,” Frank said to me.

  “Thank you, I feel better.”

  Just then one of the ladies from our theater department walked over to me. I was informed that she was here to do my makeup for the interview. I already knew how to do makeup for TV and had done mine that way, but I didn’t tell her that. However, I must have done a good job because she did almost nothing to my makeup.

  While I was sitting in her chair being groomed I watched Al’s crew as they set up the cameras, checked the microphones and just generally got ready for the interview. Some of our own engineering technicians and theater technicians were there as well. I liked having our own people there. Kudos to who ever had that idea.

  “Jerome, is everything ok? Why is your team here?” I asked.

  “Yes, Misty everything is ok. The fire marshal is here doing general tests and there was a problem with the sprinklers in here. But, Bob over there used to install these systems. He knows them very well,” Jerome said.

  “Oh, fantastic. Will he be done soon, or do we need to wait?”

  “No, ma’am, he’s finishing now.”

  When Bob came over to talk to Jerome I made a point of thanking him for doing the work so quickly. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and he and Jerome left.

  I noticed Al Learner was nowhere to be seen. Was he hiding in another room somewhere? Did he not want the mouse to see the cat until he was ready to pounce? If so, that was ok. Maybe it was better if he didn’t know that the mouse was also ready to pounce.

  When it was time to start someone from Al’s production crew came over and led me to my seat.

  “Mrs. Summer have you ever been on camera before?” he asked.

  “Call me Misty. What’s your name?”

  “Mike,” he said looking at me kind of funny.

  “Well, Mike, no I haven’t. However, I’m sure Al will be polite and take it easy on me.” I practically batted my eyes at him. I wanted to sound innocent and unaware of what might happen. I think it worked.

  Mike tried not to smile. “I’m sure he will.”

  I wasn’t sure how he said that without laughing.

  “Ok,” Mike continued, “just stay relaxed, and look at Al. Just pretend that the cameras are not here. Ok.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Ok, I can do that.” Better than he imagined.

  “Of course you can.” Again how he said it without laughing I didn’t know.

  Al walked into the room. He looked a little disappointed, as if he didn’t get the applause he was expecting. When he saw me his lips changed in to what could be mistaken as a friendly smile. But one look at his eyes would tell you that he was going to try to tear you apart. Kind of like a lion on the hunt. All I could think was “bring it on little man, bring it on”.

  “Mrs. Summer so nice to meet you,” he said.

  We shook hands and he took his chair. Which I noticed was higher than mine. Did someone have an ego issue?

  “Now, I don’t want you to be worried,” he said. “I’ll ask some questions and you just answer them as best as you can. If you make a mistake, or if you need a moment to answer don’t worry, we’ll just edit that part out. Ok?” He winked at me.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  All I could think was, “yea I bet you’ll edit out the embarrassing stuff. You lying little…”

  And the interview began. He started out by introducing me to the audience. He explained the story of how Frankie and I bought the park and then started to refurbish it.

  “By the way,” he said to me, “you’re PR guy gave me some great before photos. My crew was in the park this morning taking some footage of the progress you’ve made. We’ll show it during this part of the interview.”

  “Oh, Nigel gave you some before photos that’s great.”

  “You’ve done wonders with the park.” He gave me that smile again.

  “I’d like to think that we, as a team, have made some great changes.” It wasn’t like I’d done the work myself.

  “Oh, Misty. I have something else I wanted to ask you about.”

  Ok, it was time for the real action, was my first thought. My second was, “Who the hell said you could call me Misty?” I’m into using first names but hearing him say mine made me want to change my policy.

  “That’s fine, ask away,” I said. I was trying to remember what I had learned in the acting classes I’d taken so many years ago. I had the feeling I would need all of those skills now. If I still had them.

  “Thank you so much.” He cleared his throat and gave me one of those fake smiles again.

  “I was just wondering if you had heard of a singer named Misty Breeze.”

  So not where I thought he was going. Of course I had no idea where he was going.

  “I have heard of her, yes. She committed suicide several years back, if I remember correctly,” I said. “What about her?”

  “The rumor is that she committed suicide.”

  He emphasized the word rumor. I’m not sure I liked where this was going.

  “I’m sorry?” I said.

  “I don’t think she’s dead.” He looked at me and waited for a reaction. I gave him none.

  “Well, I only know what I heard. It was on the news and in the paper. It was even in Rolling Stone Magazine if I remember correctly,” I said.

  “It was, but that means nothing.”

  So you know more than the reporters at Rolling Stone? That’s a big ego. It must be hard to carry.

  “If you say so, Al,” I said. “I’m sure you know more about that than I do.”

  “Oh, I think you know more than you’re admitting to,” he said giving me that lion smile.

  “What do you mean, Al?” Where the hell was he going with this?

  “I mean you knew her better that you admit.”

  “Are you accusing me of killing her, Al?”

  “No, Misty, I’m accusing you of being her.”

  I heard a bunch of intakes of breath, a few “wow”s, and even a “no”. I simply started to laugh. What an idiot this man was.

  “What? Why on earth would you think that?” I said.

  “Put the picture up,” he said to one of his techs.

  There was a TV monitor next Al. It suddenly came to life. On the screen was a picture of this pretty young blonde girl who definitely had a heavy metal feel to her. That was the Misty Breeze that I remembered.

  “Ok, I think I remember her now. She was very pretty. I was jealous because I was so geeky in high school,” I said.

  The next image that came up was one of me from my high school year book. Yes, I was pretty geeky. I had acne. My hair was frizzy. And I wore the dorkiest glasses. All the years of ballet lessons my parents had forced me to take did not show in that photo.

  “Yep, that’s how I remember myself. Ugly and geeky,” I said. “Thanks for showing that, Al.”

  “Ah, but wait,” Al said.

  The image on the screen changed. The two images were shown side by side. I saw no resemblance. Then the two images were superimposed one on top of the other. It made a funny image. They eyes didn’t line up. The noses and the mouths only mostly lined up. The ears were the best match, but because one image had the hair up and one had the hair down, so you couldn’t really tell.

  “Um, what am I supposed to be seeing here?” I asked not really understanding.

  “That’s you, Misty. Those two faces match perfectly.”

  “No,
Al, I hate to tell you but they don’t. I’m sorry. Did you look at the pictures?”

  “Of course you’re sorry. Because you have been living a lie all these years. You are Misty Breeze!” He was almost yelling now.

  I, however, stayed calm. I gave little laugh. At least I knew what the game was now.

  “I wish I was, Al. Then I’d have a lot of money. I’d be famous. I could sing. I’d have fans all over the world.”

  “Come on, Misty, admit it. You are Misty Breeze.”

  I gave him what I hoped was a pitying look. “No, I’m not.”

  “Ok, you say you’re not. Then prove it,” he said.

  “Sure. How would you like me to prove it? Do you want my DNA?”

  “No, I want you to prove it right now on camera,” he said.

  “Ok. How?” What was he up to?

  “I want you to sing. Sing one of Misty Breeze’s songs,” he said.

  “I would, not that I really want anyone to hear me sing, but I don’t know any of her songs. Not by heart any way.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “No, Al, I don’t.”

  “Ok, if you want to keep pretending we’ll play a few lines from one of her songs and then you just repeat it.”

  “As much as I’d rather not embarrass myself, if it will convince you that I am not her I’ll do it.”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled. I wondered what else he had in store once I did this.

  The song played. I listened closely to the lyrics. While it played I thought I heard someone say, “Oh, my God.” I thought it was Frankie.

  “Now,” Al said, “we’ll play the music and you just sing the words that you can remember.”

  “Ok, here goes,” I said. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and sang along with the recorded music as well as I could.