1 Hot Scheming Mess (27 page)

“That’ll never happen again.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll never owe you penance like that again.”

He looked back down at his work and said, “I’ll think of something.”

She grabbed the key card and left the room.

*****

Early in the morning, hours before the doors opened for the convention, they set out the rest of ExBoy’s artwork at the booth. He used the larger works to fill up some of the empty looking spots within his space. The boxes of books went under the table and were well hidden by the black, floor length tablecloth. Books sat in neat piles on the tabletop. Alongside the books sat long narrow comic book boxes the exact height and width of standard comic books, made to accommodate comics standing upright. That would allow ExBoy’s customers to flip through the various plastic bags of his artwork. He had a nice open spot on the table where he could autograph his book for a potential buyer.

The cover of his book puzzled Madison. Besides the title,
Infect Me
, and the author’s name, Xander Boyd, it showed three zombies trying to get away from a normal looking young woman. She had her forearm around the throat of one zombie, while she desperately grabbed for the second zombie that was slipping out of her reach. The third zombie was running away.

“I don’t get it,” said Madison. “The cover shows the zombies trying to get away from her, instead of the other way around.”

He said, “It’s a comedy horror. She wants to be a zombie, but finds that she can’t get bit to save her life.”

Madison thought about that for a minute. “You are a strange man. But I mean that in a good way.”

She looked up, seeing the surprise that she had arranged for him walking down the aisle toward his booth. Without his knowing, she had made phone calls last night on his behalf. With a little prodding, Spenser and Target had agreed to be zombies hanging around ExBoy’s booth. Target in particular was quite eager. But best of all, Crystal had agreed to try to get Toonie out of the house by bringing her to the convention, and Madison could see now that they were doing more than just attending. They, too, were walking toward them, made up as zombies.

Crystal, her beautiful complexion now a deathly pallor, was dressed like a cheerleader with her little pleated skirt and sleeveless shell top in bloody tatters, carrying what Madison had thought was a dirtied pom-pom but now realized was a head with long bloody hair.

Spenser wore a nurse’s old fashioned white uniform, with a little white hat attached to her blonde hair pinned up like Tippy Hedren’s in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Choosing to keep her face its prettiest, she sported a bloody gouge on her left forearm. Instead of sensible nurse’s shoes, she wore high heels. The blood on her uniform appeared to have been sprayed and splotched, as if she’d been too near someone who had burst an artery.

Target wore jeans and a faded Robot Moon Productions t-shirt with a few blood streaks running down the front, and carried a dark blue backpack. A big rubber dagger appeared to be embedded in Target’s forehead, blood running down her face. A fresh kill.

Toonie wore an old, dirty white chef’s jacket and pants, complete with tall chef’s hat. The jacket was torn and bloodied with a big gash on the side. Something that passed for guts and sinew hung out from the hole in the jacket. She carried a rubber meat cleaver and looked like she really wanted to use it right now.

ExBoy had been looking down at the table, arranging and rearranging the pile of books, his concentration on overdrive for such a small task. “I have a surprise for you,” said Madison. “It might not involve a bikini, but I think you’ll like it.” Spenser, Target, Crystal, and Toonie stepped up in all their zombie glory.

“Xander!” cried Target. “Madison said you could use a little help. Zombie cavalry to the rescue.”

ExBoy looked up, confused at first, then said, “Target? Spenser?” He looked them all up and down, their undead appeal sinking in while a big smile slowly grew on his face. “Seriously?”

Introductions were quickly made for Crystal and Toonie, and the four zombie women made nice with proper “hello, good to meet you, hello…” as bloody handshakes were exchanged along with a little nervous laughter.

To Madison, Crystal said, “I was shocked Aunt Toonie agreed. She wants to help, although she’s not really happy about her costume, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Toonie fumed. “Just say it. I look like an ass!”

Before she could assure Toonie that she looked fantastic, ExBoy grabbed Madison up and planted a big kiss on her, saying, “Thank you! It’s awesome.”

“Damn it,” said Target. “I didn’t have my camera ready.”

Having just shook hands with Toonie, Spenser said, “You’re the one who made the cookies. The oh-my-God cookies!”

Toonie warmed up at that and smiled. Admiring the Tippy Hedren hairstyle, she told Spenser, “I love your hair. I wore mine like that in high school. Years ago, of course.”

“Thank you,” said Spenser.

“But why are you wearing high heels if you’re supposed to be a nurse?”

“High heels give me a different perspective,” said Spenser. “I always seem to be cuter up here.”

Toonie considered that and mumbled, “Then I must be just adorable.”

Madison said, “Target, I have to get my own costume ready now. Spenser brought me some old clothes she was going to get rid of. Did you bring the liquid latex?”

“Everything’s in my pack here. I brought some prosthetic wounds, too, and white contact lenses.”

Madison was delighted. “I’ve always wanted to try white contacts. You can see through them, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Things will look a bit cloudy to you, but they’ll make your eyes look so creepy,” said Target. “And I can help you with the prosthetic wounds. I brought the spirit gum to apply them.”

ExBoy finished a conversation with Toonie, and walked over to Madison. When she asked him for the key card, he handed it to her, saying, “Your neighbor Toonie looks fantastic. But for some reason she keeps calling me Tighty Whitey.” It was difficult for Madison to keep her face blank as she shrugged her shoulders and took the key card.

*****

Upstairs in the room, Madison and Target hurried to get Madison’s costume pulled together. The hotel would be opening the doors to the convention very soon now.

Together they slashed, tore, and dirtied up an old worn out one-piece bathing suit with matching poolside cover-up that Spenser had donated. With added sunglasses, floppy hat, and sandals, Madison intended to act as if
Infect Me
were her summer reading. She pinned her hair up so that when she added the floppy hat, it would be able to cover all her hair. Then she added the white contact lenses.
Whoa
. They did have a mild cloudy effect on her vision. She shouldn’t drive a car with them, but she could see just fine to see how freaking cool the effect was!
I’m undead royalty, bitches! That’s right.
She always felt this sense of silly glee whenever she got a new costume.

Madison had her usual small theater makeup kit from her tote bag, but the supplies that Target brought blew her away. In the bright light of the bathroom, Target spread out her supplies on the counter. She brought out the spirit gum and used it to apply a small rubber prosthetic that looked like a fake wound in the form of a skinny slash on Madison’s cheek. Then she painted a few patches of liquid latex on Madison’s arms and legs. While the liquid latex was still wet, Target opened a small plastic container full of fresh coffee grounds, mixed with uncooked oatmeal. She pressed that mixture onto the sticky surface of the still wet liquid latex.

Once the liquid latex was dry, she brushed off the excess coffee grounds and oatmeal mixture, then painted the fake blood on top. Madison now appeared to have open wounds that had been dragged through dirt or had skidded through gravel. By now the spirit gum holding the prosthetic wound on Madison’s cheek was dry. Unlike Crystal, who had done her costume and makeup to look all the way to decaying, or Spenser who insisted on looking alive and pretty, Madison decided to go partway, looking dead, without decay. So Target added a touch of greenish grey color to give a deathly pallor, hiding the healthy tone of Madison’s skin, plus a little more makeup to blend in the edges of the prosthetic wound. Madison thought half of the enjoyment of the entertainment arts was the creation of an illusion. It was plain damn fun.

“Oh, the creepy goodness of it,” said Madison. “I don’t normally go for this kind of thing. But look at me!” she laughed. “Great job.”

“Thanks,” said Target. “I like special effects makeup.”

“You’re good at it.”

“I have makeup artist friends that were hired at the last minute this morning. Two guys want a professional job on their costumes. The pictures from today are going to be fantastic.”

“These contact lenses rock. I’ve got to get some just to have them on hand.”

“You should try the red lenses sometime. Vampire chic.”

“I want to take a picture of this. Let me get my phone.”

The doors to the convention were open by now and Zombie Prom would be in bloom. She hurried into the other room to the nightstand where she had left her phone on the envelope of old pictures. Her tote bag sat on the floor next to the nightstand. She grabbed the phone with one hand while she tried to put the envelope back into her tote bag with the other, but the envelope slipped, spilling dozens of old pictures, fanning out on the floor. She plunged into a squat, balancing on her toes to save the photos, picking up each one with quick hands.

In that instant, one photo on the floor caught her eye as well as her breath. Her hand stopped in mid-air as she reached for a picture of a young Jerry with a young Vladik, standing together in front of a large banner that said International Student Exposition. They were shaking hands and smiling for the camera.

Jerry knew damned well who Vladik was. The old photo lay askew on top of the rest of the evidence of Jerry’s long career.

She teetered, her balance pulling her backward to slump to her butt. She sat like a child with the photos, like toys on the floor, between her knees. Breathing through her mouth, she blinked at the truth in front of her. The mild cloudy effect of the white contact lenses in her eyes did nothing to soften the blow.

Wait, wait, wait—why would—
She tried to calm down and put the pieces together.

At Choosy Chews, her mother had told her that these older photos of Jerry were from the FBI archives. If Vladik Sakharovsky was KGB, that would make him and Jerry counterparts of one another. This photo implied they worked the student expo together, celebrating some kind of cooperation. Years later, Jerry’s long involvement with local high schools brought him to her mother’s high school, courting her to choosing a career with the FBI.

Grandpa always had a deep hatred for Jerry but never had said why. Yet he never stopped Jerry from coming to their house or taking young Ann Cruz on field trips. Jerry was even present during Ann’s visits from college. Madison always wondered why Grandpa had allowed it.

Maybe her grandfather never stopped it because he couldn’t.

The only person who could blackmail Vincent Cruz would be the one who knew he had kept the baby. The one who took that photo from the bushes. The one who waited in those bushes to see who found the baby, because he was the one who left the box there to begin with.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

She pulled out her phone, trying to hit the right buttons and pull up Jerry’s number. Her tears stopped as her anger grew, her hands shaking. She didn’t know why she was bothering to give him a chance to explain, a chance to deny it. This was why Grandpa needed to get out to FBI Headquarters in DC. Grandpa wasn’t just confessing, he was ratting out Jerry in a place where Jerry had no authority to stop him. Uncle Jerry was the enemy.

She stopped, her hands dropping. What was she
doing
calling him like this? The reason Grandpa had said not to tell Ann was probably because he was afraid it would get back to Jerry! He knew Ann would go to Jerry for help, or if she knew more of the circumstances, might go to Jerry to confront him just like Madison had been about to do.

A small, faraway voice said, “Hello? Madison?”

The small voice was coming from the phone in her hand, which had lowered into her lap. She looked down at her phone, a viper in her hand. She needed to proceed carefully. Jerry had been ratted out by now, but if he didn’t know that, how far would he go to keep this secret? If he did know, how far would he go to silence the witnesses? She raised the phone to her ear and said, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Did you locate your grandfather?”

In a snippy tone she said, “Sorry, Jerry. Things don’t always work out the way we want.” She made a pained expression at her own lack of self-control. Her attitude was showing and she needed to dial it back fast.

Jerry’s voice was low key and deliberate. “You do want me to help Vincent, don’t you?”

She picked up the photo of Jerry and Vladik, bringing it closer to her dead white eyes as she stared at it. It mocked her. Her voice came out much more compliant. “Of course, Jerry. I would love that.”

“I was hoping you could help me handle this privately. It would be kinder to Ann never to have to know. A benevolent deception.”

God, she wanted to throw the phone. Grandpa recalled those very words right after his fight with Vladik. If there were any doubt left in her, Jerry had just killed it.

He said, “I’m out of time, Madison. Where is he?”

She looked down at the liquid latex wounds on her arms and legs. “I don’t know, Jerry. He’s not answering his phone.” She wondered what a real wound like that would feel like. She wondered how to deliver a wound like that. She already knew she could swing a drill if she had to.

“I see that you cleaned up the mess in his living room.”

The son of a bitch was keeping tabs on her.

“Well, you know the old saying,” said Madison. “A woman’s work is never done.”

“You don’t sound surprised that I knew,” said Jerry.

“I’m getting used to surprises lately.”