Unfashionably Dead

Chapter Twenty-one

I stow away inside the Fendi and accompany Lanie to lunch at Chubby's. She orders a Steak Bomb sub and a coke, while I stare at the creepy clowns on the walls. You'd think the owner would remove the paintings or paint over them after the great clown scare...or because they're creepy, but no. The clowns remain and they're still scary, even after becoming a ghost. Thank god, there are plenty of men in uniform to distract me from my fear.

She weaves her way through the crowded restaurant to the soda dispenser. Soldiers and airmen turn their attention from their pizza, subs, and pasta to glimpse her before she sits in the corner booth. Using her phone, she searches for hotels in Tampa and settles on one within walking distance from Amalie Arena and Channelside.

A waitress with black ringlets places the sub in front of Lanie. While she thanks the waitress, I inhale the air wafting around the sandwich, the smell of grilled steak and sautéed onions, mushrooms and peppers too tempting to dismiss.

Lanie picks at the sub, eating only a third before the waitress brings a to-go wrapper and a paper bag.

"You, okay, hun?" She hands the wrapper and bag to Lanie.

"It's been a rough few days, but I'll be okay once the holiday rush is over." Lanie rolls the sandwich in the wrapper and stuffs it into the bag.

The waitress seems to hedge. With a sigh, she says, "I saw the girl you used to come in with was killed Friday night. I'm sorry for your loss."

Lanie thanks her then rushes out. Crying before exiting the restaurant, she climbs inside her car and turns on the engine. The heater blasts cold air at her face and she shivers as goosebumps prickle her skin. She regains her composure and drives to the office where she makes her job-saving phone calls and kills time until she can check in at the hotel.

A bellhop wheels Lanie's luggage past benches arranged in a triangle. A palm tree covered by red and white ribbon is in the center. Each corner of the triangle has a sweetheart plant, its crimson leaves stunning with their green border. On the far side of the benches, a twenty-foot Christmas tree stands flocked and fully decorated, as "White Christmas" plays overhead. The bellhop blathers on about holiday events in Tampa, but Lanie merely nods her head at the appropriate times. She seems focused on maintaining the happy façade.

Once inside her room, she turns on the lamp next to her bed, kicks off her heels and slips into her pajamas. From her suitcase, she removes a prescription and holds it in her hand, studying the side effects and seeming to debate if the sedative is worth the trouble. She takes the sedative then plays her word game, her scores decreasing with each round. By the end of the sixth, the cell phone falls onto the bed as Lanie drifts to sleep. Satisfied my friend will stay out of trouble for the evening, I will myself to Margaret's.

Clive is seated on the couch, sipping a drink from a copper mug, telling Margaret he saw his coworker's baby today and he'll be glad when he isn't the only one on call. Once the drink is finished, Margaret goes into her bedroom to "freshen up" and Clive walks the mug over to the tidy kitchen and rinses it before setting it into the sink. His gaze flicks to a small piece of paper hanging from a magnetic clip on the refrigerator.

It is a check for fifty thousand dollars, postdated for Friday, signed by Adam.

I stare at the check, wondering what could have transpired for Adam to refund all of her money. Hadn't he said it was impossible, that he could only spot her a few thousand? And even that had come with a threat not to bother him again.