Dazzled, page 8
part #5 of Charlie Cooper Mystery Series
“Well.” Celeste crossed her arms and frowned “This is unfortunate.”
“No worries. It’s all good.” Marge sang out over her shoulder as she made her way to the hostess stand. Celeste and I watched, confused, as she fumbled in her purse and handed something to the girl. Amazingly enough, Marge grinned and waved us over.
What in the world? I elbowed my way toward her through the crowds.
“Ladies, follow me,” the hostess told us with a smile. “Welcome to the Bacchanal Buffet.”
“I can’t imagine what you told her,” I whispered as I caught my first glimpse of the huge displays of food. I spied pizza, sushi, Chinese rice, huge hunks of beef and ham and more as the hostess led us to our table.
Marge grinned at our confusion. “It was part of some big promotion when I booked our rooms. I picked the coolest package—Epicurean Delight. Some places give us free dessert; some will bump us up in line.”
I gave her a high five.
“You’re the best trip planner ever!” I said as I took my seat.
“Excellent,” Celeste said. She lowered her voice once the girl had left. “Too bad they didn’t have a package called Lose the Stolen Loot.”
Once our drinks were ordered, it was time to fill our plates.
“Everybody take your purse,” I said. Until we got back to our rooms, I was going to stay freaked out about the ever-loving purse.
We went exploring through a wonderland of scrumptious-looking treats. Any food that you could think of could be found in the rooms and rooms of massive buffet tables. This place had a station for food of every type: salads, soups, potatoes, Chinese, Italian, French…
To start, I piled my plate to overflowing with dumplings, deviled eggs, ham, mashed potatoes, a slice of pepperoni pizza, cake pops in two flavors, and other assorted treats.
I checked my plate again. No, there was no more room. I’d used every bit of real estate to be had on the plate in my fervent quest to try as many foods as possible in a single sitting. Still, as I made my way to the table, I looked longingly behind me at all of the deliciousness that would not fit on the plate. I’d be back, for sure.
Joining the others at the table, I hungrily dug in. Celeste tapped at her phone between bites, looking all serious, while Marge and I took a break from our worries to enjoy our food. I gave her a thumbs-up as I savored the amazingness that was the Bacchanal Buffet. Our table was mostly quiet except for the clink of silverware and the occasional exclamations of “ahh” or “unbelievable” or “I could die happy right this minute.”
Those expressions of delight came from me and Marge. Celeste’s plate held mostly salad—and what a very boring salad she had put together, along with a bit of fruit.
Finally, the silence was broken by Celeste. “Okay, here’s the story. It seems this kind of coffee, after being mined, gets sold to different kinds of middlemen—wholesalers and what have you. Then they deal with the stuff before it makes it to the store in the form of rings and bracelets or whatever.” She bit into an apple slice.
All I could do was stare. An apple slice? For real? She’d bypassed endless tables of amazingness and come back with a…little piece of apple. Celeste never ceased to amaze me.
She continued with her update. “What the wholesalers do is this: first, they sort the coffee—by color, shape, and carat, all of that good stuff. Then the di—I mean, the coffee—goes through a cutting process.” She picked up a celery stick. “Oh, and here’s what’s interesting to me. Because coffee is so hard, nothing except coffee can be used for cutting coffee.”
It might have been the most nonsensical sentence ever uttered—along with the most nonsensical plate of food that was ever eaten at the country’s top buffet.
I stuck a dumpling on her plate. “We’re in Vegas. Live a little.”
“I had no idea how the whole thing worked—the whole business, I mean, of cutting coffee. Every day, it seems, I learn something new,” Celeste said with a smile.
“So the coffee we found isn’t from a store,” Marge said. She placed a meatball in the middle of a small pile of carrots on Celeste’s lonely plate. “A few calories won’t kill you, and these meatballs are the best.”
“It’s very doubtful that our coffee came from any store,” Celeste replied, “but we can’t rule it out. Wholesalers sell loose coffee, but stores can sell it too. It’s also possible that ours comes from someone who’s not even in the business. That’s most likely not the case, but it could have been procured as maybe an investment. Someone could be hoping that they can make a profit if it went up in price.”
“That’s my kind of investing,” Marge said. “I like that idea much better than boring stocks and bonds. It’s more sparkly and more fun.” She spooned up some fried rice.
“What is not fun,” I said as I speared a piece of ham, “is that our coffee was most likely not obtained in a strictly legal way.”
“I think you’re right,” Celeste said as she typed into her cell. “Let me see what pops up if I Google coffee theft in Vegas.” After a few beats, she looked up with a frown. “Well, that idea was a bust. I got nothing, zero, nada.”
“It could also mean that whoever owns the stolen coffee doesn’t want it in the news,” Marge said thoughtfully.
As for where to go from there, we’d figured out exactly nothing, so I did what I always did when I was tired and stressed. “I’m going back for more,” I said as I got up from my chair.
“Best idea you’ve had all night,” Marge was close behind me.
When we got back to the table, Celeste had put away her phone. “I think things would be a lot clearer once we’ve all had time to sleep,” she said. “We got up super early today to catch our flight, and it’s been quite a day, to say the least.”
“I agree,” I said. I sat back and enjoyed round two of nirvana, which featured manicotti, beef and rice, and crepes. I was starting to get full, so I’d gotten tiny portions, just enough to taste.
“Impressive appetite!” Marge said. “I hope you don’t burst.”
A waitress soon appeared with our check. “Don’t forget to try the dessert,” she told us. “A lot of people tell us that’s their favorite part: a whole plate of cakes and pies. With coffee.”
That last part made us jump.
“Um, I hope you enjoyed your meal,” the waitress said, confused. “Please dine with us again.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d just stepped out of Caesar’s Palace when I heard a gasp from Marge.
What now? The thought of one more complication made my heart go still. I just wanted to go to bed.
“We’re close to the fountains!” Marge was positively gleeful.
“You mean those fountains?” I asked, wide-eyed.
“Ya-ha!”
“Perfect,” Celeste said. “Maybe we’ll catch one of those lights shows.”
Oh, yeah! We had to see the fountains. I’d seen them on TV. Complete with lights and music, the dancing waters were supposed to put on quite a show in front of the Bellagio Hotel.
Marge pulled out her phone to check the time. “I think this could work, if we hurry. The shows start every fifteen minutes.”
We moved pretty quickly for three exhausted women in a buffet coma and with having absorbed several recent shocks. The Bellagio fountains were actually right next to Caesar’s Palace, but with the hotels being so massive and taking up so much space in length, it took us several minutes to get there. A crowd gathered at the fountains, but we squeezed into a spot where we could see the show.
The anticipation was worth it. The spectacle began, and everybody was in awe. Spaced out neatly in front of the stately, beautiful hotel, a row of fountains rose up slowly and began to kind of wiggle to a Frank Sinatra tune. They were doing grand leaps as the crowd cheered wildly. I winked at Marge, and the two of us were moving our hips to the music—well, as much as you can dance while pinned in by a crowd. Despite the…complications with the coffee, I was in love with Vegas.
The show ended, and as the crowd dispersed, we did a little people watching before deciding to head back.
“I say we take an Uber. My ankle’s sore again, and it’s a looong way back.” I stretched out the word to illustrate just how much I didn’t feel like walking.
A couple of women walked by. One of them caught my eye and smiled like she was someone I knew. “Hey you,” she said. “I hope you girls had fun. Are you heading to the bus? We can walk together if you want.”
Was I heading to the bus? I was slow to understand after the day I’d had, but soon I recognized her. She was my seatmate from the tour bus.
This could work out well, I thought as I gave her a rueful smile. Hopefully the tour was over for the day. I was way too tired to make another stop.
“It’s been such a long day and my mind is shot. Could you just remind me…where the bus is going next?”
Confused, she glanced at her two companions. “Back to the hotel, of course,” she said.
Jackpot!
“A lot of us are not the youngest anymore,” another woman said. “This is late for us.”
“We’re pretty beat, too,” Celeste said. “And we have to find our brochure with the schedule on it, so we won’t miss the bus rides. We are more than ready to head back and turn in for the night. We’d love to walk with you.”
We followed the women across a pedestrian walkway with a great view of the lit-up city, which stretched below us like a picture from a postcard—and a gorgeous one at that. As we neared the bus, our surroundings seemed to change. Just like that, in half a block, the scenery was transformed from a merry circus of crowds and flashing lights to the blandness of the real world. Now we found ourselves on just a normal darkened corner like you might see back home in Springston.
The bus guide was waiting on the bus. She smiled at us in welcome.
Celeste and Marge both quickly fell asleep on the short trip back to the Kaleidos. I made myself stay awake with one eye on Celeste’s bag. I heard Marge snoring and reached across to wake her up before she got too loud.
The hotel looked welcoming as our driver pulled up to the side door. I was so glad to be back. We were so exhausted that it seemed like an ordeal to find our careful way through the maze that was the lobby. It took a while to locate the only elevator that would take us to our floor. Finally, once we’d stepped off elevator C onto the nineteenth floor, I told my friends goodnight.
“Let’s sleep in, but not too much,” Celeste suggested with a yawn. “We need to figure out this stuff and get on with the vacation.”
“Meet at nine?” I asked, pushing my glasses off my nose.
“That’s works for me,” Marge said with a tiny wave. “Everybody meet in my room and then we’ll go to breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” Celeste said. “Charlie, you want us to check out your room, make sure there are no other hidden items somewhere?”
“Thanks, I’m good,” I said. “If the hotel hasn’t made a copy of my key card and gave it away, I think I’m fine.”
“Our Charlie is so brave,” Marge said.
“It’s called aging,” I laughed. I winked to the girls. “Nighty night and sweet dreams.”
As soon as I walked into my room, I knew I spoke too soon. I knew something was way off. My things were thrown across the floor, the bed, the dresser, the chair, and windowsills. The dresser drawers were open. My stuff was everywhere. Pillows, blankets, clothes, shoes, and cosmetics had all been rifled through and thrown aside. A sick feeling rushed all through me. At any minute I was going to hurl the tons and tons of food that felt heavy in my stomach.
I ran to the bathroom, tripping over belts and socks and charger cords that lay in my way. That’s when I saw the message on the mirror. It was written in red lipstick.
Give back the diamonds or you’ll be sorry, Charlie Cooper!
Chapter Seven
I broke out in a sweat. Somebody had been right there—right there in my room. Some creep had touched my stuff—and what really freaked me out—somehow, he knew my name. OMG, what if he hadn’t left? Visions of the dead girl played out in my mind.
Quietly and carefully, I took a look around. I listened for a telltale noise but didn’t hear a thing except the pounding in my chest. I walked slowly to the bed and bent to look beneath it, but there was no one there. The closet door was still thrown open, so that hiding place was out. I was alone.
The shower! Dang. The shower! Was he huddled up in there? A tightness spread across my chest as I stepped into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain while I held my breath. Nothing there. Finally, I could breathe.
Relieved but furious, I stifled back a sob. How dare someone invade my space, my stuff? I didn’t ask for this. I wanted to cry out to the lowlife scumbag with his lipstick manifesto.
I ran out into the hall; my gorgeous, perfect room was no longer a place where I felt safe.
Celeste’s room was the closest, so I banged hard on her door. She answered right away, wearing the silky Kaleidos robe and a green face mask. Her startled, wide-eyed look seemed to ask a question: Can’t we be done with bad surprises until I’ve had some sleep?
“My room,” I said, struggling to catch a breath. “Now!” I took her hand and dragged her to Marge’s door. My heart was still beating wildly when I tapped on the door.
Marge peeked out warily and jumped back in surprise at the sight of Celeste and her green face. Marge had on hot pink pajamas and slippers with fuzzy kitten heads on top that bobbed every time she moved. She looked from Celeste to me.
“What?” she asked. “You want a slumber party?”
“No, we don’t!” I hissed. “Come with us.”
They stepped into my room and gasped, and Marge grabbed my arm in dismay. “What happened here?” she cried. Her voice rose several octaves higher than the usual excited squeak that I’d heard countless times before.
“This is how I found it. And this isn’t all; there’s more.” I led them to the mirror in the bathroom, which they stared at in stunned silence.
Celeste’s face turned white—at least the little bits of it that weren’t covered up in green.
“What happened here?” she asked when she caught her breath.
“My thought exactly,” I said.
“How did they get in?” Celeste asked.
“OMG, they know your name,” Marge said, eyeballs bulging out. “How do they know your name?”
“I don’t know, but it’s freaking me out,” I said. “Maybe they…”
Then I caught sight of my luggage. The tag hung toward the floor with my name spelled out clearly for anyone to see—my name and my address. Marge and Celeste followed my gaze and spotted the tag too.
“Oh,” Marge said. “Apparently, there’s a downside to having that attached to your luggage.”
A sick feeling filled my stomach. Even back in Springston, I would not be safe. Neither would my family, and I hated that the most.
Celeste walked to the door. Very carefully, she ran her finger back and forth across the lock. “Nothing broken here,” she said. She wheeled around and looked at me, concerned. “Okay, Charlie, think. Did everything seem normal with your key card when you first came in tonight?”
“Just the same as always.” I shrugged. “The light turned green; it opened.” A sick feeling once again washed over me. “And then I walked in and found this.”
Marge put a hand up to her chest. “I can’t believe they had the nerve to break into your room. That’s terrifying, Charlie.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
I glanced down at a tube of lipstick that had been thrown into the sink beneath the red and waxy words. “I only brought one lipstick, so I guess that’s the one they used,” I said. Hot Lips and Hot Nights—that’s what the shade was called, my one vacation splurge.
“Whoa, girl, look at you,” Marge said to me, impressed, as she stared at the mirror. “That’s quite a shade of red.”
“Well, you’re always telling me to go bolder with my colors.”
“I didn’t think you listened.”
“This time, I did.”
Marge turned toward the bedroom, in full detective mode. “Okay, let’s figure out if anything is missing.”
“How would I even know?” I asked as I looked around the room with stuff strewn everywhere. On the floor beside the bed were the special pillows that I’d ordered. They must have brought them up while I was gone. Tossed beside them was a little piece of chocolate and a note: Wishing You Sweet Dreams! From your Friends at The Kaleidos.
Tears welled in my eyes. I was so damned tired. It seemed like a monumental task to sort through all the piles, to remember what I’d brought and check to see if every tiny thing was present and accounted for. “I guess they only wanted one thing,” I said to my friends, “and that thing wasn’t here.”
Celeste sunk down on the bed. “I’m thinking your visitors could have been the same guys that we saw in the apartment when we came across the body.”
“I was picturing just one creep, but yeah, I think you could be right,” I said.
I didn’t like the thought of it being them; those were some creepy guys, but her idea made sense. I sat down beside her, my legs having suddenly gone weak.
Marge cocked her head to one side; she was deep in thought. “If it was them who came in—and you might be correct—how did they know the coffee is here in Charlie’s room?”
“That’s a very good question,” I said.
“Maybe they’re the ones who hid it,” Celeste said thoughtfully. “And we can skip the code word. It’s just the three of us.”
“Maybe so,” Marge said. She paused to think some more. “There’s so much that we don’t know. Why would anyone leave coffee in a hotel room? I mean diamonds. This is confusing.”
“What is?” I asked. “The code word or the mess we’re in?”
“Both,” Marge said.
“Okay, let’s recap what we know so far.” With her eyes closed tightly, Celeste bent her head and blinked hard, trying to stay awake. “In the cast of characters we have…one dead girl and two thugs.”
