Illusion of Luck 38

“Where are you taking me?”

“To our little love nest,” said Larry, as he shifted into third gear.

Cynthia could only hope that Greg was following the Jag­uar.

“You know the police are looking for you.”

“Well, I wish them good luck. Because they’re gonna need it.”

“You understand that I don’t want to be with you.”

“Yes. You’ve made that very clear.”

“Then what are you planning to do? Are going to rape me, Larry? I really thought you were more of a man than to do something like that.”

“Save your breath, Honey. Psychology won’t work on me.”

“So, is that all this is about?”

“It doesn’t matter what you say, Cynthia. Whether you’re a willing participant or not, it’s gonna happen. And I’ll remember it the way I want to.”

“You’re sick, Larry. You really do need help.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not sick. Remember? I’m lucky. Lucky Larry.” He laughed.

“How can you still think you’re lucky? I got away from you once already.”

“But now I have you back. I have the love of my life.”

“I’ll never love you.”

“Sure you will. Tonight you’ll do a strip tease for me and beg me to get undressed. Then you’ll tell me how much you love me over and over again, as you satisfy me in every way. It will be the night of our dreams, Baby.”

There had to be a way out of this mess, she thought. “And then what? You’ll just let me go?”

“That’s the plan. If you do everything I ask you to do, you’ll be back with Greg by morning.”

But would she be alive? And if so, would she wish she was dead?

**********

“Hey!”

The young couple sitting in their car was startled by the crazy man in the bathrobe banging on the window.

“What’s your problem?” The young man yelled back, afraid to open the window.

“My wife was kidnapped. Did you see a man drive away with a pretty redhead?”

The young man rolled down the window. “Maybe. I’m not sure if her hair was red.”

“Yeah, it was,” said the woman.

“Did they leave in a dark green Jaguar?”

“I don’t know what kind of car it was,” said the man. “But I think it was green. Definitely some type of sports car.”

“Thanks,” said Greg. “And I’m sorry I scared you.”

He rushed back inside and found Sandy, Rebecca, Chaucey, and Crow in his room. Rebecca was sitting at the table, work­ing at her laptop. Greg had not even realized she’d brought it.

“I found a couple making out in the parking lot. They saw Larry and Cynthia leave in his car. But I have no idea where he’s taking her. How am I ever going to find them?”

“Rebecca’s re-reading his last chapter,” said Sandy.

“He wrote another chapter?” said Greg. “Is that how you knew he was here in Orlando?”

Greg got in Sandy’s face and yelled. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I tried—but your cell phone was turned off and you didn’t listen to the message I left you,” he said, pointing to the phone on the night table. “I’m sorry. I should have told the desk clerk.”

“It’s okay.” Greg calmed down a bit. “It’s not your fault.”

Chaucey walked over to where Rebecca was sitting. “Any clues?”

“Not yet. But you know he probably gave one or two,” said Rebecca.

“Yeah,” said Chaucey, “he loves to do that. Thinks he’s smarter than everybody else.”

“For the apartment in The Woodlands, he used the name Revo Enim,” said Rebecca, “which, of course, is just ‘Under­mine’ spelled backwards. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he did something like that again.”

Greg said, “Yeah, but we don’t even know if he’s taking her to a motel or an apartment or what.”

“I can’t imagine him renting an apartment,” said Sandy. “He knows the police are looking for him, so he wouldn’t want to stick around for too long.”

“Good point,” said Rebecca. “So, I’ll look for anything that could be the name of a hotel.”

Chaucey leaned in close and read over Rebecca’s shoulder. She found something and pointed to it on the screen. “What about this? He’s talking about making his fantasy come true in Orlando?”

“What does that tell us?” said Greg.

“Try searching on the words ‘fantasy’ and ‘Orlando,’” said Chaucey.

After a few seconds, Rebecca said, “Bingo. Orlando Fan­tasy Hotel. That’s got to be it!” She clicked on the link, which took her to the hotel’s website.

Sandy opened his cell phone and called the number on the screen.

“Yes, can you tell me if you have a Larry Luzor registered there?”

“What was the name again?”

“Luzor. L-u-z-o-r.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Now what?” said Greg.

“Wait. He wouldn’t use his real name, would he?” said Chaucey.

“Doubtful,” said Rebecca.

“Call back, Sandy,” said Greg. “Ask for a Mr. Ruzol, which is Luzor spelled backwards.”

Sandy called the hotel and asked. But they had no Mr. Ruzol.

Just when Sandy was about to hang up, Crow said, “Ask about ‘Bigy Rules.’”

“What?”

“Bigy Rules,” said Crow.

Although Sandy couldn’t imagine where Crow was coming up with the name, he tried it anyway. “You do? What’s the room number? 343. Thanks.”

“You’re kidding me,” said Rebecca.

“No,” said Sandy. “They actually have a guest by that name.”

“Crow, how did you come up with that?” said Chaucey.

“Roulz. R-o-u-l-z is Luzor with the letters scrambled. And I figured he’d like that one since it sounds like rules, r-u-l-e-s, because he thinks he rules.”

“Okay,” said Rebecca. “But where did you get the ‘Bigy’?

“Well, you were telling us all about Larry while we waited for the bus. And you said his real name is Lawrence Igby Luzor. So I just swapped a couple of letters in the name ‘Igby’ and got ‘Bigy.’”

“You’re smarter than you look, Crow,” said Rebecca. “No offense.”

“Bigy Roulz,” said Chaucey. “Yeah, that’s him. No doubt about it.”

“Come on,” said Greg, rushing out the door, “we’re gonna outsmart Mr. Bigy this time. But we’ve got to hurry.”

**********

As Larry pulled the Jaguar into the parking lot of the Orlando Fantasy Hotel, Cynthia saw that there was a group of teenagers getting out of a bus nearby. Larry wouldn’t shoot her in front of all those witnesses, she thought.

“Now, I’m warning you, Cynthia. Don’t make a scene or you’ll regret it.”

She nodded humbly.

“Okay, let’s go.”

They got out of the car. Cynthia started running. She ran as fast as she could toward the hotel.

Larry thought about pulling out his pistol, but saw the kids and decided against it. So, he ran after her. “I’m gonna get you,” he yelled out, as though it was just a game.

She ran to the side entrance. Once she reached the front desk, she’d be safe. He might be capable of killing her, but she didn’t think he was prepared to shoot the desk clerk and several others.

But the door was locked, and according to the sign, required a key card at night. Larry was approaching quickly.

Cynthia ran to the back of the hotel, where the big garbage bins where kept. It was dimly lit, and smelled like rotten fish.

Larry flew around the corner only to see something flying at his head. He ducked, but the large cinder block clipped his forehead anyway.

Seeing that he was stunned for the moment, Cynthia turned to run away.

But he lunged at her, grabbing her leg on his way down.

She tried to kick free, but he latched onto her like a bear trap.

As he crawled up her body, his dizziness began to dissipate. Finally, he planted himself on her thighs and pulled out his gun and pressed the barrel into her left ear.

Cynthia wondered if this would be her last moment on earth. Was this where she would die—in this smelly place behind a hotel? A popular hangout for rats and other vermin, no doubt. Her body would look like one of those cadavers on the CSI show—the top of her head blown off. Maggots coming out from everywhere. Could she fight him off and wrestle the gun out of his hand?

“Is this what you want? Huh? You want to die right now?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away. That was stupid of me.”

“And you shouldn’t have hit me in the head. That could have left me brain dead.”

She wished.

“I’m gonna give you one more chance.”

“Okay.”

He started to get up, but changed his mind. “You don’t even think this gun is real, do you?”

“What? Of course I think it’s real.”

“Or, maybe you think it’s not loaded.” He pointed it toward the sky and fired.

Cynthia jumped. Even with the suppressor muffling the sound, there was no doubt he had just fired a bullet.

“Let’s go,” he said, as he got up and helped her to her feet. “Time to get it on, Baby.”