Thomas Amo - An Apple for Zoë - Book One ~ The Forsaken

"Never was much between me and him, Mike, literally," she quipped with a quick hand version of a rim shot on the desk corner. "Oh she's on today!" said Jessalee, admiring her own clever quick wit. Kirkland smiled and squirmed a bit. "Thank you folks, I'll be here all week," she added as her levity subsided, but she couldn't help noticing Kirkland's silence. "So what's up Mike, since I know you didn't really ask me into Dick's office to show his fake leather sofa—a good time. What the hell happened here?"

Kirkland nodded, and forced a fake smile. "Valerie's dead." There he said it. Two short words— could they change someone's life in an instant?

"My sister?" said Jessalee as if she misunderstood him.

Apparently they can , thought Kirkland. "Yes, Jessa. I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"We really don't know, but I have to take you off this case."

"Is she upstairs, Mike?"

"Yeah."

"Can I see her?"

"Not yet Jessa, it's really bad. I'm not going to lie to you."

"Did the same thing happen to her, as everyone else?"

"No, your sister was murdered."

Kirkland watched Jessalee closely. So far no quivering chin, no silent scream, no tears. She's strong , he thought. She won't break down until she's alone . He looked for anything that would allow him to help her during this moment.

"We're going to need your help Jessa, because neither James or I have ever seen anything like this."

"Okay, I'm listening," she said remaining calm.

"Your sister has a tattoo."

"No, that's not right. Valerie hated tattoos. She used to give me shit for mine. How do you know it's her?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Richard identified her."

"Richard? He's never even met my sister?" she exclaimed.

"Are you sure? I mean he knew her right away. He told us, his words exactly were: it's my girlfriend's kid sister, Valerie Rivera."

"He couldn't have met Valerie. Valerie and I haven't talked to or seen each other in three months."

"Why?"

Jessalee looked around the room as if she was searching for her answer.

"Why Jessa?"

"We had a fight."

"You had an argument?"

"No a fight, you know a hair pulling, bitch slapping smack down."

"Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"No love like sisterly love," she said, still trying to keep her sarcasm in tact. "Look Mike, the truth of the matter is, Valerie and I never really got along very well. I didn't care for the crowd she started running with, I told her I didn't want her around these people, she didn't like it. She mouthed off some shit to me and I popped her."

"And she popped you back."

"Once or twice, bitch hits hard too. Anyway, that was the last time I saw her, until I ran into her at a club last night. She was still hanging out with the same dyke we argued about before."

"This was at The Cellar?" asked Kirkland.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Bouncer give you guys a hard time?"

"Just Valerie and what's her name. He made them leave."

"What's her friend's name?"

"I don't know Mike, I didn't stop to ask her how she liked licking my sister." Kirkland could see the news was finally taking its toll on her. Jessalee's face became flushed and without warning she screamed, "FUCK!" as she jumped up and faced the wall, fighting her urge to breakdown. Kirkland quickly came to her side and held her. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. He had always wondered how it would feel to be this close to her, but not by means of having to deliver such heart-wrenching news. Estranged or not, Kirkland could tell that Jessalee loved her sister.

I'm sorry, Mike," she apologized. "It's not like me to be like this."

"Jessa, don't say another word to anyone about what we talked about in here, you got it?" instructed Kirkland as he stroked her hair and held her in his arms. "Why am I a suspect?" she asked wiping the tears from her eyes. "No, but I think your sister and her friend were both killed by the same killer."

Looking down at the empty hallway James shivered at the silence of the hotel, although eerily quiet, it seemed somehow peaceful. James leaned against the wall and tried to relax and sort through the day's events. Two young beautiful girls found dead in the weirdest of places. Both victims with strange tattoos placed above their vaginas. Vagina. How he hated the sound of that word. There was nothing pleasant about it. Even today the word sounded vulgar. He wondered what it must have been like having to hear it in the courtroom during Fatty's trial. James' mind began to wander. Wander to the infamous weekend nearly a century before.

Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle books rooms 1219, 1220 and 1221 for a weekend celebration of his new multimillion-dollar contract with Producer Adolph Zukor. It's going to be a weekend of good old-fashioned Hollywood style debauchery. A weekend, filled with bootleg booze, broads and wild sex. The September weather is gorgeous. The warm, slight breeze caresses the curtains on the open windows. Voices call to one another between the rooms. The haunting voice of Al Bowlly, singing Midnight, the stars and you, was playing on the Victrola.

James began to realize he wasn't daydreaming, his attention was turned to the scratchy sounds of an old record playing. He turned and looked down the hallway to room 1219, where the music was coming from. Slowly the door opened. The sound of the music grew louder. A man dressed in a black tuxedo stepped from the doorway of room 1220. His face covered in black make-up with a white mouth, eyes and white gloves. The man looked at James and said nothing as he stepped into room 1219.

Startled, James looked around. He wondered if someone was trying to play a joke on him. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn he just saw Al Jolson leave room 1220 and go into room 1219. Standing alone at the end of the hall James called out. "Hello? Mr. Grantham?" Feeling a bit spooked, James turned on his radio and unsnapped his gun. "Hello?" Feeling uncomfortable, he began to walk down the hallway towards the open door of room 1219. As he passed each room, he, could hear hushed laughter, the clinking of champagne glasses, heavy breathing, the sounds of sex. Whispers called to James to join them. Walking closer to room 1219, the whispers became louder. The sound of the music increased, as did the heavy breathing.

Standing outside the door of room 1219, James tried to collect his thoughts as he listened intently.

"Midnight, with the stars and you."

The lights in the hallway began to dim, as the music in the room swelled.

"Midnight, and a rendezvous"

No longer able to resist the temptation to look inside room 1219, James pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Your eyes held a message tender"

James strained to adjust his eyes as quickly as he could to the low light. The room was filled with cases of champagne stacked on top of one another, buckets of ice with chilled bottles of Coca-Cola, tables full of food, balloons, and streamers. A banner was pinned over the entrance of the bedroom door, it read,

"Fuck Her Fatty!"

The soft glow of chandelier light filled the bedroom entrance, while the music was coming from inside the room. Making his way into the bedroom, James could see the room was filled with people. Standing on a platform table in front of the windows leading to the balcony was Al Bowlly in white tuxedo. His jet-black hair was combed straight back and his eyes sparkled as he sang into the old world microphone.

"I surrender, all my love to you"

James moved closer to the center of the room where Jolson was standing at the foot of the bed looking down. The breathing became louder.

"Midnight, brought us sweet romance"