I bit my lip. I stared at the camera. I did a feeble little wave.
“Uh, hi.”
A line of text appeared on the computer monitor to the right.
I have to go now.
“Wait!” I shouted at the camera. I looked down at my cell. Still silent. “Please wait, I…I’m new here. Just give me a chance; I swear I’m really, really good. Supersexy and all that.”
I glanced at the monitor. Nothing. Crap.
“Um, I’m totally into talking about tab A. And slot B.”
Still nothing. See, I knew I was no good at this stuff.
Channeling Dana, I did my best pouty-face at the camera and let one sleeve of my dress slip down my shoulder. “So, big boy, what do you want?”
I swore to God, if he told me to take it off, I was bolting. I nervously checked the monitor-and gave a loud sigh of relief when text appeared.
Show me your feet.
My feet? Okay. Feet I could do.
I sat down and lifted up one pink pump-clad foot for inspection. “I know, the shoes totally clash with the dress. I originally had a pink sundress on, but it kind of got caked. Then ripped. So, I’m clashing a little today.”
I glanced at the monitor. No response. Had I lost him? Dammnit, Felix, hurry up!
“Uh, want to see the other foot?” I asked. I lifted my left foot for inspection, crossing my ankles in the air.
Nice.
Oh, thank God. “Thanks. They’re new.”
Stuart Weitzman?
“Actually I designed them myself. See, I’m a shoe designer, and they’re one of my few originals.”
You’re very talented.
“Thanks!” Okay, the guy couldn’t be all bad if he knew a good pair of heels when he saw them.
Show me your toes.
“Oh. Well…okay.” I let one pump drop to the floor and wiggled my half-painted toenails at the camera. “I usually get a pedi down at the salon, but I was late for the Terror’s party, so I only got one foot done. Sorry.”
Take the other shoe off.
I complied, letting the other shoe drop to the floor. As long as we stuck to bare feet, I could do this. I glanced at my silent cell phone again. What was taking him so long?
Let me see your toes.
I leaned back on the bed, supporting myself on my elbows as I lifted both feet up in the air, wiggling my toes at the camera. “Like this?” I asked.
Beautiful.
“Thanks.”
Now, suck your big toe.
Excuse me? I blinked at the screen.
A) Grooooosssss! B) Who’d wanna watch that? And C) Um…was that even possible? I mean, I wasn’t Gumby here.
“How about I just take my top off instead?” I offered, suddenly thinking stripping wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
There was a pause. Then the words, I’ve got to go flashed on the screen.
“No, wait! Okay, I’ll.”-I paused, trying not to grimace-“suck my big toe.”
Do it.
Ugh. I closed my eyes, picturing Dusty’s face. I was doing this for her. I’d failed her once; I wasn’t going to let her killer get away with it. I would find the bastard. I would nail his ass to the wall.
I would suck the toe.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward as far as I could. But since the last time Dana had dragged me to yoga class I’d fallen flat on my face while doing a downward-facing dog, my face came about six inches shy of my big toe.
“Hang on.” I gave the camera the universal one-finger “wait” signal. I scooched closer to the edge of the bed and curved my spine over into a ball, grabbing my right ankle with both hands and straining to reach it. I felt my leg start to cramp up as I attempted human pretzel. I was close, if I could just roll forward a little more, just another half an inch…
Unfortunately, I rolled up so well that I rolled right off the bed. Headfirst. Landing with a thud on the pink carpeting. “Ow.”
I stood up and rubbed my forehead, stomping feeling back into my legs. “Sorry, ” I told the camera. “I, uh, kinda fell. But I think I might have licked my toe. A little, ” I added hopefully.
I leaned over the bed and checked the monitor.
I have to go now.
“Wait, no! Let me try again. I can totally do this. I was this close, ” I protested, holding my thumb and index finger up.
But it was too late. A red line of text slashed across the screen, informing me that BigBoy78 had logged off of the system.
Shit, shit, shit! I grabbed my cell and quickly dialed Felix’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“Please tell me you got him?”
Felix chuckled. “Your head all right, love?”
“Fine.” I rubbed at my forehead again, where I could feel an imprint of the carpet. “Did you get the trace or not?”
“Yeah, we got him.”
I did a sigh of relief. “Thank God. What took you so long?”
“I actually had him five minutes ago.”
I narrowed my eyes at the phone. “Then why didn’t you call?”
He chuckled again. “I was enjoying the show.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to love me after I give you his location.”
“This had better be good, ” I mumbled under my breath. I grabbed a pen from my purse and wrote the address Felix read off onto the back of my hand. It was a Hollywood zip code, though the street wasn’t familiar. Felix pulled up MapQuest.com while I waited; then he gave me directions from the 101.
Which would have been very helpful, I realized as I hung up, if I’d had a car.
Damn.
Jasmine opened the door to the bedroom. “You done in here? ’Cause we got another customer logging on.”
I grabbed my purse and bolted for the door. No way did I want a repeat of that performance. “It’s all yours.”
Jasmine ushered Anna back into her pink room and shut the door behind her. “You get what you need?” she asked, turning to me.
“Yeah. The only problem is, now I need a car.” I paused, doing my best puppy-dog eyes at her.
She planted both hands on her bony hips. “Well, don’t look at me.”
“Please, Jasmine, ” I pleaded. “I can make it worth your while.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How worth my while?”
“Three months of ads in the Informer?”
She shook her head. “No way. Back-cover ad. In color. And I drive. Nobody drives my baby but me.”
I bit my lip, hoping Felix really was loaded. “Deal.”
“Okay, where are we going?”
“Hollywood. But…” I paused, remembering the armed officer waiting outside for me. I had a feeling I’d been lucky to talk Officer Mustache into taking me here. A detour into Hollywood to confront a possible killer with a toe fetish was probably out of the question. Besides, I was pretty sure this was one of those “harebrained” things Ramirez had been talking about, and when Officer Mustache reported back, I was likely to be put under some sort of house arrest.
What I needed was a distraction.
I pulled my cell back out and hit number two on my speed dial. Mom picked up on the first ring.
“Maddie? Are you okay? Oh lord, what’s happened this time?”
I rolled my eyes. Geez, give me a little credit, huh? “Nothing, Mom. I’m fine. I was just wondering what you were doing right now.”
“Mrs. Rosenblatt and I are at Molly’s. We’re helping her send out thank-you notes. Why do you ask?”
“Are all the kids there, too? And Connor?”
“Yes.”
Perfect! I almost felt sorry for Officer Mustache.
“Why, Maddie? What’s going on?”
“Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a little favor. Could you pack all the kids into the car, Molly and Mrs. R, too, and drive them to my friend’s house?” I recited Jasmine’s address.