Illusion of Luck 16

Greg stepped out of the elevator. He had waited in the lobby until his patience ran out. Then he had gone out to the parking lot to look at the Bonneville. It didn’t have a scratch on it.

He was relieved that his car was okay, but irritated that somebody would pick this night, of all nights, to pull such a prank. He took out his key card.

His cell rang. It was Sandy.

“That was not cool, Man.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you call our room 10 or 15 minutes ago, disguising your voice?”

“No. That wasn’t me.”

“Well, that’s weird. Some guy told me he bumped into my car, and asked me to meet him in the lobby. But he never showed. So, I figured it was you, playing a trick on me. I couldn’t think of anybody else who would do it.”

“I’m serious, Man—it was not me. Are y’all okay?”

“Yeah, we will be. If people will just leave us alone.”

“So, Cynthia’s okay?”

Greg opened the door. “Sure. Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

“What made you think something was wrong?” He walked to the open bathroom door looking for Cynthia. She was not there.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it after the honeymoon. Y’all have a great time. I promise not to bother any more, Buddy.”

“Wait. Cynthia’s not here.”

“Well, maybe she went down the hall to get a candy bar or something.”

“I don’t see any of her clothes. And her overnight is bag is gone.”

“Uh-oh.”

“What do you know about this, Sandy? Tell me what’s go­ing on.”

“It’s just a hunch, really. And it’s complicated. Just hang tough, Buddy. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“We? Who’s with you?”

“Uh, her name is Rebecca. I met her tonight at the wed­ding.”

Greg didn’t know any Rebeccas. “Okay…”

“Another long story. See you soon.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Greg knew it had been too good to be true. He didn’t deserve Cynthia. She must have finally come to her senses.

Then he remembered the anonymous call on the night of the wedding rehearsal.

She’ll rip your heart out, Man.

He sat on the edge of the bed, dizzy and heartbroken.

*********

Larry knew he couldn’t go back to his house in Plano or to the cabin on Lake Texoma. By now, the police might suspect his ex-wife had been murdered. If so, they would come around asking all kinds of questions. And he certainly didn’t want to be bothered—now that he was finally reunited with the true love of his life.

He looked away from the road to see her pretty face in the moonlight. “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this, Cynthia.”

“What do you plan to do with me?”

“What do you think?”

She was afraid to answer.

“Live happily ever after,” he said.

“With a woman you abducted on her wedding night?”

“I got there just in the nick of time. I saved you.”

This guy is seriously deranged, thought Cynthia.

“You made sweet love to me every night in high school.”

“I never even went out with you.”

“Every night you slipped into my bed and had sex with me. We did it over and over again—until we both passed out from exhaustion.”

“Larry, you’ve got quite an imagination.”

“Yes, I do. But I knew it would all come true one day. I knew you wanted me as much as I wanted you. I just needed to get up the nerve to ask you out.”

“But you never did.”

“No. And it’s my greatest regret. You were so cute in your little cheerleader outfit.”

Then she realized. “You’re the one who sent me those weird emails.”

He seemed hurt. “You thought they were weird? What about my poem? I wrote you a nice poem.”

A creepy poem, she thought.

Your beautiful smile, your silky red hair,
At the edge of the field, you were always there.
Rooting me on to unimaginable glory,
Inspiring my heart in a hero’s story.
But now I’m alone and longing for you,
So, flip up your skirt like you used to do.
Jump into the air and I’ll catch my hottie;
I’ll rip off your clothes and have sex with your body.

“If you wanted to date me, why didn’t you just call me up? This is certainly not the way to a woman’s heart.”

“I was afraid you would reject me.”

You were so right, she thought.

“But I knew this would work. I knew my luck would come through for me.”

“You call this luck?”

“Sure. I’ve always been lucky. That’s why they call me ‘Lucky Larry.’”

“Wait. Now I remember. Everybody started calling you that after you made the big play in that game against the Lobos.”

“That’s right! I won the game.”

“And you were lucky to even be in the game, if I remember correctly. Coach hardly ever gave you any playing time.”

“That’s right. If Coach hadn’t put me in for that last play we would have lost.”

“But didn’t he have to put you in the game? A bunch of the players suddenly came down with diarrhea, didn’t they?”

“I don’t remember…”

“Yeah, that’s right. They said you brought brownies to the locker room. And all the players who ate them got sick. That wasn’t luck.”

“I didn’t make them sick. That’s not true.”

“Yeah. And you were wide open in the end zone because everybody knew you were a lousy player. But nobody else was open, and the clock had run out. So, Tony threw the ball to you, and it bounced off your helmet, and you fumbled around with it for while before you finally fell to the ground. That part was luck. The Longview coach claimed you didn’t have pos­session. But the ref said you did. There again—pretty lucky, I guess. Or did you poison the ref too?”

“No, My Dear. You’re only half right. I was lucky to be put in the game. And coach was lucky he had the good sense to put me in the game. And, I’ll admit, I made a lucky catch. And that’s how I became ‘Lucky Larry.’ I wasn’t my fault seven players got sick that night.”

Cynthia realized she was being foolish. It was not a good idea to argue with this wacko. He could blow off her hand with the push of a button.

And clearly, he was crazy enough to do it.

**********

Greg had been sitting on the bed, staring at the wall ever since he hung up with Sandy.

There was a knock at the door.

He opened it and saw Sandy and some woman holding a briefcase.

“Hey, Man. You okay?”

Greg looked pitiful. “No.”

Sandy gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry, Buddy.”

“Come on in.”

“This is Rebecca Ranghorn. I met her tonight at the recep­tion and we just kinda hit it off.” He smiled at her.

Rebecca shook Greg’s hand. “Glad to meet you.”

She must be an old friend of Cynthia’s, thought Greg. “So, what’s going on, Sandy? What do you know about this?”

“Well, Rebecca was on her way home when her car broke down. So, I gave her a ride. And she was telling me that she thought you and Cynthia might be in danger. It all sounded crazy, but it was bugging the heck out of me, so I called you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” said Rebecca. “But it was just a hunch. And you would have thought I was nuts.”

Greg knew she was right.

“My best friend was murdered Thursday night,” she said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Greg.

“Thanks. We were law partners. And I believe that the man who killed her is writing a book about it on the internet. And in the book, he talked about a redheaded woman he was obsessed with, and that she was getting married on Saturday.”

Greg listened in disbelief.

Rebecca went on. “So, I searched the web looking for all women who were getting married today in Texas who also hap­pened to have red hair. The only one I found was Cynthia.”

“Oh, no.”

Sandy jumped in. “But the good news is that this guy will probably write about whatever he’s doing. So, we’re hoping the book will lead us right to him.”

“Well, have you checked? Has he written anything else?”

“We don’t know. But Rebecca has her laptop.”

“Does this room have wireless?” she said.

“I think so,” said Greg. He hadn’t cared. He had planned to spend all night making love to his wife—not browsing the web.

Rebecca opened her case, took out the laptop, and turned it on.

She went to the site and found Barry Undermine’s page.

“No new chapters. Sorry.”

“I’ll call the police,” said Greg. “And report her missing.” He took out his cell phone.

“It’s too soon to file a missing persons report,” said Rebecca. “She could have just changed her mind. You know—the old runaway bride scenario.”

“But we know better,” said Greg. “We know this guy took her. You have proof in his book.”

“Think about it, Greg,” said Sandy. “Think about how it’s going to sound to the police.”

“We’ve got to find her ourselves,” said Rebecca. “Because the longer she’s gone, the less likely she’ll ever be found. And the more likely he’ll…”

“You think he’ll kill her?” said Greg.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But we know he’s already killed at least one person.” She saw the bouquet of red roses on the shelf and nodded at them. “Did you buy those?”

Greg and Sandy turned around to see what Rebecca was looking at.

“No,” said Greg. “I hadn’t even noticed them.” He hadn’t noticed anything about the room but the bed.

Sandy walked to the bouquet and picked it up. “The card says, ‘to Greg and Cynthia,’ but it doesn’t say who it’s from.”

Rebecca walked to where Sandy was standing and studied the flowers and the vase. She ran her fingers along the inside of the vase and found something. “Look at this.” She held up a tiny object.

“What is it?” said Greg.

“It’s a bug. That’s how he knew what you were doing.”

“But how did he get Cynthia to go with him?” said Greg. “And why didn’t she scream?”

“He probably had a gun pointed at her,” said Sandy.

Greg couldn’t bear the thought of his precious baby in such danger.

Rebecca walked back to her laptop. “All we can do is wait.”