Chapter 19

 

Friday, February 26th, 1993

 

 

     It took Dominique forty-five minutes of searching before she ran across Malachi.  The man was leaning against a wall talking to an old drunk.  When he caught sight of the diminutive woman and the way she was frantically gesturing to him, Malachi excused himself from his companion.

 

     "Is something wrong, Dr. Dom?"

     Dominique glanced around before pulling Malachi into the doorway of a vacant store.  Without any preamble, she reached into her coat pocket and thrust the picture at him. 

 

"Malachi, who's the man in this picture?"

 

     Malachi didn't skip a beat.  "Jack."

 

     Dominique threw her head back and briefly closed her eyes.  "I was hoping against hope you'd tell me I'm wrong."

 

     "You're not."  Malachi reached in his own coat pocket.  "Now I have something to show you.  I was going to stop by the shelter in a little while and talk to you about it."  Malachi handed Dominique a light blue piece of paper folded in thirds.  "Will told me a black guy was in Beulah Land yesterday asking about Jack."

 

     "A black man?"

     "Yes.  He said the guy might as well have been wearing a neon sign that flashed cop."

 

     "What did Will tell him?"

 

     "Nothing.  He denied ever having seen or heard of Jack.   The guy gave him that flyer, and asked him to show it around.  In turn, Will handed it over to me."

 

     Dominique unfolded the paper.  The same photo she held in her hand was enlarged and situated in the center of the paper.  Above it was printed, Andrew J. Simon.  In parenthesis below that were the initials, A.J.

 

     Dominique read out loud the words the flyer contained. 

 

"Andrew J. Simon, a San Diego private investigator, was kidnapped on March 14th, 1992.  Recent evidence in this case leads law enforcement officials to believe Andrew Simon is in the San Francisco area.  Mr. Simon is six feet tall, and at the time of his disappearance weighed one-hundred and fifty-five pounds.  He has blue eyes and blond hair, and goes by the nickname A.J.  It is possible Mr. Simon's physical condition is such that he can't speak, and is suffering from amnesia. Please help his family find him."

 

     At the very bottom Richard Simon's name was listed with a phone number next to it. Underneath that, was a phone number for the San Diego Police Department along with the name of a contact there, Lieutenant Abigail Marsh.

 

     The nurse stared down at the paper a long time before finally looking at her companion.  "What do you think?  Is all this on the up and up?"

 

     "Are you asking me if there's a possibility this could be some type of a ploy the cops are using in order to get their hands on Jack?"

     Dominique nodded.  "That, or maybe the black guy Will talked to isn't a cop at all.  And maybe the other guy who came to the shelter last night passing out Jack's picture and claiming to be his brother, isn't who he says he is either.  I don't want to turn Jack over to someone who's going to hurt him again, Malachi.  He trusts me too much for me to be able to do that."

 

     Malachi softly spoke his agreement.  "I understand, Dominique.  I don't want to betray his trust either.  But, on the other hand, if these men who've been looking for Jack really are who they say they are...well, then at least one of them is a member of his family, Dom.  We can't keep Jack as though he's some kind of lovable stray puppy we saved from the elements."

 

     Dominique couldn't meet Malachi's gaze.  Although she and Jack had kept their newly forming relationship private and discreet, it was possible Malachi had figured out what was going on.  The man had an uncanny ability to read people.

 

     If Malachi did know Dominique was in love with the blond man, he kept his thoughts to himself for the time being.  He pointed to the paper Dominique held. 

 

"You have to admit that flyer describes Jack to a T.  In addition, it's obvious that's a picture of him.  And you've said yourself that you've been wondering if he had done some type of police work at one time or another.  If he was a private investigator that could explain why he's so familiar with police procedures."

 

     Dominique looked down at Jack's smiling face.  "I know.  Or he could be familiar with police procedures because he's been in trouble with the law."  She brought her head back up and gazed across the street.  "Malachi have...have you ever wondered what you'd do if someone showed up looking for Jack because they wanted to arrest him?  I mean, let's just say that your first scenario is right.  Let's say this flyer and the story it contains is nothing more than an attempt the cops are making to find Jack because he's committed a crime of some sort.  What would you do?"

     "You ask some pretty tough questions, Doctor Dom."

 

     Dominique smiled and cast her gaze upon her friend once more.  "I know.  Believe me, I've been asking them of myself lately as well."

 

     Malachi shrugged his shoulders.  "I don't know, Dominique.  I guess it would depend on what he had done.  If the cops are lookin' for Jack because he shoplifts women's underwear from fancy lingerie shops...well no, I wouldn't turn him in.  But neither you nor I are that naive.  If the cops are looking to arrest Jack, and have gone to this much effort to concoct the story that flyer contains, then you know whatever he did was a serious offense."

     "Like murder?"

 

     "It's a possibility."

 

     Dominique's words were fierce and protective.  "I don't believe that for one minute.  I don't think Jack has ever hurt anyone in his entire life."

 

     Malachi put a comforting arm around the nurse's shoulders.  "I don't want to believe it either, Dominique.  But it could very well be true."

 

     Dominique allowed her head to fall to the black man's chest.  "Oh, Malachi, all I've prayed for month after month is that someone will show up here looking for Jack.  Now that someone has, I don't know what to do."

 

     Malachi chuckled.  "Didn't anyone ever tell you to be careful what you pray for because it might come true?"

 

     Dominique couldn't help but chuckle as well. "I thought that was wish.  Be careful what you wish for because it might come true."

 

     "Wish, pray - same thing, Doctor Dom.  God listens to both."

 

     "I hope you're right, Malachi.  This is the one time in my whole life that I really need God to listen to my prayers and wishes."

 

     Malachi gave the nurse's shoulders a comforting squeeze. "He's listening, baby.  He's always listening."  Several comforting seconds passed before Malachi allowed his arm to drop and Dominique pulled away from him.  "So what are you going to do now?"

 

     Dominique looked down at the flyer and the business card.  "I...I believe I'm going to do some investigating of my own."

 

     "What do you mean?"

 

     "I have to find out exactly who these men are before I consider speaking to them about Jack.  I have to know that they're not going to harm him."

 

     "What if you discover they're here to arrest him?"

 

     Dominique worried her lower lip with her teeth.  She looked up into Malachi's brown eyes.  "Then I have to know what it is they want to arrest him for."

 

     "And then what?"

 

     Dominique smiled.  "You ask some pretty tough questions yourself, mister."

 

     "I just want to make sure you're thinking this through."

 

     "I am, Malachi.  Believe me, I am.  Depending on what they want to arrest Jack for, if they even do want to arrest him, I guess I'll have to decide whether or not I'm willing to turn him over to them.  If, for whatever reason, I don't feel I can hand Jack over to these two men, then I can always hide him out at my place for a few days." 

 

     "You'd better think about what you could be getting yourself into, Dominique.  You could end up being arrested for harboring a fugitive."

 

     Dominique could hardly believe what she heard herself saying next.  "I know.  But I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." 

 

     "What can I do to help?"

 

     "You just got done telling me I could be arrested for harboring a fugitive.  Why are you so anxious to join in the fray all of a sudden?"

 

     "Just like Jack's your friend, he's mine as well.  And a better friend I haven't had in many a year, Doctor Dom."  Malachi's eyes twinkled with mischief.  "Besides, so what if I do get arrested?  For the first time in years I'll be guaranteed a warm bed, clean clothes, and hot food on a daily basis."

     Dominique smiled at Malachi's humor.  "I certainly hope it doesn't come to that.  And in answer to your question, for now I can't think of anything you can do to help.  I don't even know for sure what I'm going to do yet. Just...keep an eye on Jack for me, will you?  I'm not going to say anything to him about what's going on, but who knows what will happen if those two men show up again looking for him."

 

     "I'll keep an eye on him, Dom.  On that promise you can rely."

 

     Dominique wrapped her arms around Malachi's middle.  "Thanks, Malachi.  I really appreciate your advice, and your listening ear."

 

     Malachi returned the woman's hug. "Any time, Doctor

Dom.  Any time."

 

     When the two broke their hug Dominique walked back toward St. Jude's. 

 

     "Dominique?"

 

     The nurse turned around.  "Yes?"

 

     "Don't stop praying yet.  Or wishing either.  I have a feeling this is just the beginning, and Jack's going to be in need of all the help we can give him.  Remember, Doctor Dom, the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away."

 

     Dominique gave a thoughtful nod.

 

     Oh, Lord, I don't even know what to pray for anymore.  I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not.  I don't want to turn Jack over to those men if they're only going to hurt him.  But yet, if this Richard Simon really is his brother...I love Jack, Lord.  I love him very much, You know I do.  But I won't keep him from his family either.  Just please don't let me hand him over the wrong people, Lord.  Please.

 

 

Chapter 20

 

Friday, February 26th, 1993

    

 

     If Jack noticed Dominique was avoiding him after she returned to the shelter he didn't comment on it.  He did ask her again what it was she had wanted to see him about earlier.   She was forced to fib and tell him Father Papanek needed to talk to him about next month's supper menu some time soon.  Well, that in itself really wasn't a fib, Father did want to do that.  It just wasn't what Dominique had planned to discuss with Jack when she'd first entered the shelter that morning.  But given the events that had occurred since that time, Dominique couldn't tell Jack she thought she had a job lined up for him at the hospital.   Dominique wanted to wait and see what she uncovered about the mysterious men who were looking for him.

 

     Jack was working in the kitchen when Dominique left for the day.  She almost couldn't bring herself to go down and say goodbye to him, but she always did so without fail.  She didn't want to hurt his feelings by not following her routine, or arouse his suspicions.

 

     She popped her head in the doorway of the kitchen.  "Bye, Jack.  I'm leaving for work now."

 

     The blond was alone in the room.  The other man who was working with him was out back emptying the garbage.

 

     Jack crossed the room to come stand beside her.  "Bye, Dominique.  Will I see you some time this weekend?"

     She couldn't meet his trusting eyes.  "I...probably.  I'll probably drop by tomorrow afternoon."

 

     "I'm glad."

 

     Dominique looked up at him.  She could tell he wanted to kiss her, and if the truth was told she wanted to kiss him, too.  Unfortunately...or perhaps fortunately, Jack's kitchen partner returned at just that moment.

 

     Dominique backed out of the doorway.  "Bye, Jack.  I'll see you tomorrow."

 

     His voice was so soft and full of love that it made her want to cry.  "Bye, Dominique."

 

      The nurse had to turn away from the blond man when he smiled at her.  Mentally she kept trying the name A.J. out on him for size, but it just didn't seem to fit right.  No matter who he really was, to Dominique he'd always be Jack.

 

     On impulse, Dominique drove by the Traveler's Rest Motel on her way to work.  It was an older building located on a busy thoroughfare.  She could see why it would appeal to visitors looking for inexpensive accommodations.  It appeared clean enough from the outside, and was within fifteen miles of most of the attractions that brought tourists to San Francisco.  Across the street from the motel was a large shopping mall and a row of restaurants that included everything from fast food joints to eateries where one could sit down and relax while enjoying a home cooked meal.

 

     Dominique felt like an uncover sleuth as she wheeled her red Toyota Celica across traffic and into the parking lot.  According to the business card she had on the seat beside her the two men who had been asking after Jack were staying in room number 60. 

 

     The motel was a two story structure shaped like a capital L.  At one end was an office with a neon sign above it that flashed, 'Vacancies.’  Steel stairs painted white rose from both ends of the structure, allowing those with rooms on the upper story to choose the stairway closest to their accommodations.  The walkways of both the upper and lower stories were lined with green indoor-outdoor carpeting.  The hollow metal doors to the rooms alternated being flamingo pink, brilliant blue, pumpkin orange, and an ungodly shade of caution-sign yellow.  Dominique found herself wondering why the motel builders of thirty years ago had a penchant for making their structures look like the inside of a box of crayons.

 

     The doors were numbered, but even squinting, Dominique couldn't make the numerals out.  She glanced around before parking her car. The parking lot was fairly deserted with only three cars scattered about.  She supposed most tourists would still be out enjoying various attractions at three-thirty on a Friday afternoon.

 

      Dominique started her investigation on the end of the motel farthest from the office.  She had no idea as to whether or not the manager on duty would give her a second glance, but she didn't want to draw any attention to herself either.  She was thankful she hadn't changed into her nurse's uniform yet.  Some days she did before leaving St. Jude's for work, but on days when she left the shelter a little early, she changed when she got to the hospital.  At least dressed in her blue jeans, yellow T-shirt, and tennis shoes, she could pass for a vacationer. 

 

     Dominique began on the ground floor.  The very first door she came to was labeled 15 in small, stick-on gold and black letters like a person can buy in the hardware store to label a mailbox with. 

 

     It's no wonder I couldn't read the darn numbers from the car.  You'd have to have vision like Superman to see these things. 

 

     Dominique followed the doors as the numbers got progressively lower.  She turned the corner that took her down the shorter part of the L toward the manager's office.  As she expected, the room closest to it was number 1.  She trotted up the steel steps and found herself outside door number 16.  She could hear a vacuum cleaner whining in the distance and circumvented a maid's laundry cart.  She glanced in the open doorway of room number 20 and saw a heavyset woman dressed in white pushing the vacuum across the carpeting.  Two doors down she came to a room that was labeled, Maid's Closet.

 

     Dominique's journey took her all the way to the other end of the motel until she was above room number 15 where she started.  Now she was standing outside room number 30.

 

     But I know the guy wrote on the card that he was staying in room 60.

 

     Dominique walked over to the banister and craned her head around it.  It was then that she realized the motel had rooms on the backside.  Unfortunately, short of climbing over the railing she couldn't get there from here.

 

     The nurse glanced at her watch and ran down the stairs.   She walked past her car and rounded the building.  This side overlooked more restaurants and several gas stations.  There was a large Dumpster back here as well, resting on the far perimeters of the property.  Dominique made a quick pass of the ground floor.  She never had been able to make rhyme or reason out of how motels worked their number system and found that the room behind room number 15 was room number 31.  She walked the entire length of the ground floor until she was at the back of the manager's office.  She took the stairs up and found herself outside Room 45.

 

     If I'd have known this I could have went up the stairs at the other end. Oh well, if nothing else I'm getting my exercise for the day. 

 

     It was getting to the point that Dominique was pressed for time.  If she could have broken into a run without drawing attention to herself she would have.  She settled on a fast walk, barely glancing at the room numbers she passed.  Again, she circumvented a maid's cart on wheels.  A young black woman threw wet towels into the large white pouch and reached for the glass cleaner hanging on its metal rim.  Dominique also noticed a set of keys hanging from the rim, and watched as the woman retrieved them.  The maid flipped through the keys, then picked one out and inserted it in the door of Room 52.

 

     Dominique's trek led her past another door marked Maid's Closet, before finally leading her to Room 60, the very last room on the upper story.  Its door was yellow and the draperies were open.  Dominique glanced around and saw the walkway was desolate.  Evidently the maid was busy cleaning the room Dominique had seen her enter. 

 

     The nurse cupped her hands over her eyes and pressed her face against the picture window.  She didn't see anything other than two neatly made beds, one nightstand, two green vinyl chairs, a round table, a dresser with a TV set on it, and at the far end of the room a doorway which she assumed led to the bathroom.   

 

     Dominique moved over and knocked on the steel door.  As she expected, no one answered.   She glanced to her left, and then down the stairway to her right, before trying the knob.   She assumed it would be locked and it was.

 

     Darn it!  Why can't anything ever be easy?

 

     A quick glance at her watch told Dominique she had no choice but to leave.  With one last longing look at Room 60, she trotted down the metal stairs.  She passed two men coming up, one black and one white.  Her thoughts were so far removed from her surroundings that it almost didn't register with her as to who they must be.  The men politely moved to the side to allow her to pass.  The white one tipped his cowboy hat at Dominique and gave her a small smile and nod.  When she was three steps below them, Dominique stopped and followed their progress with her eyes.  The white man glanced back down at her as he reached the top of the steps.  She hurriedly turned away and kept going.  By the time she got to the ground the pair had entered room number 60.

 

     Dominique let out a heavy sigh.  It's a good thing I didn't manage to get in there.  I'd have been caught red-handed for sure.

 

     A Jeep Cherokee was parked in the first space by the stairs.  Dominique knew it had to be the vehicle the men were driving, as the back of the motel's lot had previously been empty.  The nurse was well aware she was taking a big risk when she pulled on the driver's side door handle.  The car might possess an alarm, or one of the men might walk out and catch her in action.  But no alarm screeched, nor did either of the men appear.  It didn't make much difference anyway, since all four doors were locked. 

 

     Dominique's thoughts grew increasingly desperate as she walked to her Celica. 

 

     I've got to know!  Somehow I've got to discover who these men are, and why it is they want to find Jack.  The one in the cowboy hat looks about as much like Jack's brother as Malachi does. 

 

     Dominique was forced to remind herself that though she and Justine strongly resembled one another, Mercedes and Vanessa didn't look like either one of them, or like each other. 

 

     Okay, okay, so maybe that doesn't necessarily mean anything.  I suppose I was getting my hopes up that this...this brother would look so much like Jack that I'd immediately know his story was on the up and up.  Now I have to dig deeper.  But I'm not a private investigator, I'm a nurse.  And if I get caught snooping around their car or room I'm liable to be a nurse without a job.  Or a nurse doing time behind bars.  What the heck do I do now?

     As Dominique approached the Celica she caught sight of the maid on the upper walkway.  She paused in the act of getting in her vehicle and studied the woman.  In that brief moment an idea came to the nurse.  Gone was the despair from earlier, and Dominique was smiling when she pulled her car onto the street.

 

    

Chapter 21

 

Saturday, February 27th, 1993

    

 

     Even as a little girl, Dominique Celeste Cascia had possessed a strong sense of adventure.  Her mother said it was because she spent her time reading far too many Nancy Drew mysteries when what she should have been doing was studying her catechism.  Her father laughed and said it was because she'd inherited Grandpa Cascia's high spirits and lack of fear in the face of adversity. 

 

     Whichever it was, Dominique was a woman who did what had to be done.  And if gaining entrance into Room 60 was what she had to do in order to protect Jack, then that's exactly what she would do. 

 

     At six a.m. on Saturday morning, Dominique backed her Toyota into a parking space at the Traveler's Rest as far away from the white Jeep as she could get.  She'd arrived home from work at one o'clock that morning, and after letting Adeline out had gone straight to bed.  She hadn't slept a wink, however, as her plan swirled around and around in her mind like clothes being forever agitated by a malfunctioning washing machine.  Sometimes Dominique thought she was a genius, and other times she thought she was just plain stupid. 

 

     Who do I think I am?  She asked herself as she stared up at her dark ceiling.  Christine Cagney or Mary Beth Lacy?   Thomas Magnum?  Or that character Angie Dickenson played on Police Woman...oh, what the heck was her name, Pepper somebody or the other.  I'm just a nurse.  Just Dominique Cascia, and I don't know the first thing about what I'm contemplating doing.

 

     But then Dominique would go over her plan once again in her mind and realize it had a good chance of working - if she didn't get caught.

 

     The alarm rang at four-thirty, but Dominique was already up.  Adeline gave her a mistress a dirty look that seemed to ask, "What in the world is going on so early in the morning that you feel the need to wake me up and make me go outside?"   While Adeline reluctantly went about her business in the backyard, Dominique ate a piece of toast and drank a glass of orange juice.  Despite her lack of sleep she didn't need any coffee to get her going.  Dominique was already so wired that she didn't feel any weariness despite her lack of sleep. 

 

     Dominique slipped into the clean white uniform normally worn by a member of Mercy's housekeeping staff, that she'd pilfered from the hospital's laundry room.   She'd been forced to baste the legs up four inches, and now added three safety pins to the waistband in order to make it fit her properly.  The nurse hadn't wanted to linger too long in a place she had no reason to be.  She'd grabbed the first uniform she'd come to and scooted out to her car with it.   It wasn't exactly like those she'd seen the two women wearing at the Traveler's Rest.  The top she had buttoned up the front, while theirs were pullover tunics, and her slacks were pleated, while those belonging to the motel's maids weren't.  Nonetheless, Dominique thought it would pass inspection from a distance. She pulled a pair of white tennis shoes from her closet and noticed her hands were trembling slightly as she tied them. 

 

     As Dominique passed through the kitchen she picked up the bundle of white towels she'd lifted from her visit to the laundry room as well.  She took a roll of paper towels off her own kitchen shelf and a plastic bottle of glass cleaner.  If she was lacking anything in order to make her appear as one of motel's staff members, Dominique didn't know what it was.  She hastily shoved the items in a small zippered sports bag, let Adeline back in the house, shut off the kitchen light, and walked out into the cool morning darkness. 

 

     Dominique alternated watching the sunrise and watching door number 60 as she sat in her car that morning.  She didn't know what time the maids started their rounds, but assumed it was early.  She was hoping the two she'd seen on afternoon duty the previous day were simply hitting the rooms of those few patrons who were late risers. 

 

     It was six forty-five when Dominique began to notice activity around the motel's exterior.  Doors squeaked open one by and one and freshly showered visitors emerged.  Some loaded luggage in their cars, some loaded kids in their cars, and others just loaded themselves in their cars before driving away.  No one paid much attention to Dominique as she sat in her car half hidden behind yesterday's newspaper. 

 

     Over the top of the paper the nurse kept a vigilant eye on Room 60. At five minutes after seven the black man came out of the room, trotted down the stairs, and ambled toward Dominique's car.  Like a periscope, the paper slowly rose until it covered Dominique's face.  She allowed one corner to droop just enough to be able to see the man brush by her car on the passenger side.  When Dominique thought it was safe to do so, she glanced over her right shoulder and watched him disappear around the corner of the building.

 

     Dominique divided her attention between the direction the black man had just headed and the room he'd just vacated.  Her head rotated back and forth as though she was watching a tennis ball being lobbed across a net.  Five minutes later the black man returned carrying the San Francisco Herald under one arm.  

 

     Dominique whipped around and buried her face in her paper.  The man glanced in her direction as he passed by, but didn't seem to take any interest in her.  He rested the paper across his forearms and scanned the headlines as he continued his journey, his off-key whistling keeping time with his steps.  Without looking back in her direction, he jogged up the stairs and entered his room.

 

     At seven forty-two the door to Room 60 opened again.  This time both men emerged.  Although the long wait had tried Dominique's patience, she was thankful the men were running as late as they were.  By now two maids were working the lower floor and one was on the upper floor.  Many of the visitors had already left for the day, leaving the parking lot half empty. 

 

     Dominique brought the newspaper up to cover her face completely as the men walked down the stairway.  She carefully peered around the side of the sports section and watched the black man unlock the doors of the Jeep.  The white man ducked before climbing in to avoid knocking his cowboy hat off.  So far luck was on the nurse's side.  Neither man had been carrying a suitcase, leading her to believe they either weren't leaving San Francisco today, or that they were headed to eat breakfast prior to the ten o'clock check out time.

 

     The black man backed the vehicle out of its space, but instead of going around the corner nearest him as Dominique expected him to do he headed straight for her.  In a panic, she dove and pretended to be picking something up off the Toyota's floor. 

 

     Dominique followed the sound of the vehicle.  She didn't think it had slowed down any as it passed her.  Like a groundhog rising from its hole, her head slowly emerged from the vicinity of the dashboard.  She looked out the Celica's windows.  The Jeep was nowhere to be seen.  The black man must have chosen the far exit because it would take him to a restaurant on that side of the highway.

 

     Dominique took a deep breath, looked all around her one last time, and then exited her car.  She pocketed her keys, slid her purse underneath the driver's seat, and grabbed her sports bag from the back.  She hoped she looked enough like a maid to pass as one to any patrons who might see her enter the men's room, yet she hoped by carrying the sports bag she looked enough like a patron that any maid who might take notice of her wouldn't think twice about the white clothes she was wearing.  Hopefully, they'd just think she was an out-of-towner on her way to a tennis match.

 

     Dominique crossed herself and offered up a brief prayer.

 

     Lord, forgive me for what I'm about to do.  I know the sisters at Our Lady Of The Angels would be praying for mercy on my gone-astray soul if they could see me now.  

 

     Dominique took the stairs closest to her car.  She didn't run across anyone else until she arrived on the second story landing.  Even then, no one gave her a second glance as she walked past them avoiding eye contact.  She slowed down as she came to the maid outside Room 47.  The same heavyset woman with the tight auburn pin curls Dominique had seen the previous afternoon was using a key from her ring to enter the room.   

 

      At least that means she'll be in there a while.

 

     Dominique passed by the woman, then slowed her walk to almost a complete halt.  The maid didn't notice she was being watched as she gathered the supplies she'd need to clean the room.  When the maid entered the room Dominique glanced around, then made a beeline for the cart.  The keys were hanging on a hook beckoning Dominique like the colorful lollipops did during her childhood that had been on display in a neighborhood candy store.

 

     The nurse gave her surroundings one final furtive glance. 

Her right hand snaked forward in quest of the dangling keys.  Dominique's fingers had just made contact with the rough metal teeth when the maid walked out of the room overloaded with dirty towels.  Dominique toppled forward in fright with a high-pitched "Oh!"  Her body fell onto the rim of the laundry cart.  The bulky cart rolled forward, and Dominique rolled awkwardly with it like a baby taking her first steps in a walker.

 

     In a rush of words Dominique apologized as she struggled to right herself.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  

 

     The maid stopped the motion of the rolling cart and assisted Dominique back to her feet.  "Are you all right, miss?"

 

     Dominique's cheeks flushed bright red.  "Yes, yes.  I'm fine.  Just clumsy this morning is all. "

 

     The maid smiled.  "I can understand that.  It's early yet.  Why my legs hardly work before I've had at least three cups of coffee."

 

     Dominique pasted a smile on her own face.  "Yes, I'm sure that's my problem.  I haven't had my morning coffee yet."

 

     "You're sure you're all right now?"

 

     "Yes, I'm fine.  Thank you.  Have a nice day."

 

     "You too," the maid returned as she pulled the vacuum cleaner into the room.  "Enjoy San Francisco now."

 

     "Oh, I will."

 

     Dominique swallowed hard and continued in the opposite direction of Room 60 until she reached the stairwell.  She didn't dare look back until she rounded its corner.  She stood on the landing and using one eye, slowly peered back in the direction from which she'd come.  No one was in sight, and she could faintly hear the whine of the vacuum cleaner. 

 

     Now's my chance.  If I don't succeed this time I never will.

 

     Like an Olympic race walker Dominique sped toward the cleaning-cart.  She glanced in the room.  The maid was at the far end running the vacuum in the bathroom, her back to the door.  With all the skill of a master shoplifter the nurse snatched the keys from their hook.  Her walk turned to a trot as she headed for Room 60.

 

     Dominique dropped the sports bag at her feet and kept a watchful eye on the walkway.  For a moment she was afraid she was would have to try every key on the ring, but when she forced herself to calm down and look at them more closely she could see numbers etched in their metal.  They weren't in any particular order, and for a brief second she thought the key to this room was missing.  But then she realized she had run across two keys to room six.  Upon closer inspection, Dominique could tell the zero had been worn off of the 60.

 

     It only took a second for Dominique to unlock the door.  She left it closed and made a return dash to the laundry cart.  She didn't want the maid to notice her keys missing and come in search of them.  The vacuum cleaner was still whining as Dominique slipped the key ring over its hook.  No one paid any attention to the sound of her footsteps pounding against the walkway as she ran back to Room 60. 

 

     The nurse picked up her duffel bag, entered the room, and quietly closed the door behind her.  Before she moved any farther into the room she closed the draperies one of the men had evidently opened earlier that morning.  She took the plastic sign hanging on the inside of the doorknob that read, Do Not Disturb, and hung it on the outside.   Now that Dominique felt safe from prying eyes, and the maid down the walkway, she took out her cleaning supplies and towels.  She set them on the dresser in the hope that their presence would fool anyone who might catch her in here. 

 

     The men who shared this room were relatively neat as men go.  The beds had been left unmade of course, but the towels and wash cloths they'd used for their showers were folded and laying on the back of the toilet tank.  They did lose a few points, however, for the beard stubble left in the sink.  Dominique's ex-husband had always done that, and she'd found it to be a disgusting habit. 

 

     There was a suitcase in the corner of the room by the bed closest to the bathroom.  A khaki duffel bag rested at the foot of the bed closest to the door. 

 

     Dominique made quick work of opening all the dresser drawers.  She found nothing in any of them other than the two extra blankets the motel evidently kept its rooms stocked with.  There was a cable TV guide on top of the dresser, several colorful pamphlets advertising San Francisco's attractions, and a handful of flyers advertising the local restaurants. 

 

     Dominique moved to the nightstand in-between the beds.  All she found on top of it was forty-three cents in change, a telephone, the television's remote control, a pen, and a pad of the motel's stationary.  Inside its one drawer she found a telephone book and the regulation Gideon Bible.

 

     Dominique tried to think of what she'd seen television detectives do when searching a room.  All she wanted was to find some piece of identification that would tell her Rick Simon was who he claimed to be, a private investigator from San Diego and Jack's brother.

 

     She ran her hands underneath the mattress of the bed closest to the bathroom, then underneath its pillows.  She had no idea what she thought she'd find in those places, but repeated the procedure with the other bed.  All she got for her efforts was scraped knuckles from a wayward spring.    

 

     Soon enough Dominique was left with no here else to search except for the men's luggage.  She knew that's where she should have started, but she also knew having her hands in their personal belongings would be the hardest thing to explain if she got caught in their room.    

 

     Dominique willed her heart rate to slow as she reached for

the military style duffel bag.  She parted the soft white ropes that drew it closed on the top.  The bag was almost as tall as she was. The nurse stood on her tiptoes as she dug her way to its bottom.  All she could feel were clothes.  She realized she was going to have to completely empty it if she had the intention of making a thorough search.

 

     Just as Dominique was taking out the first layer of clothes and laying them on the bed, she heard the distinct sound of the doorknob turning.  For a brief second she was frozen where she stood, seemingly mesmerized by the slowly opening door.  At the last possible second Dominique shook herself out of her terrified trance.  She dived for the floor and slithered under the bed.

 

     Dominique's heart pounded like a racehorse's flying down the straight away at full speed.  She held her breath and listened.  She thought she could discern at least one set of footsteps crossing the carpet, but she wasn't sure.

 

     Please let it be another maid, please let it be another maid, please let it be another maid, Dominique's mind chanted. 

 

If the person who had entered were indeed, a maid, she probably wouldn't pay any attention to the room's disarray.  After all, the maids had certainly entered rooms before where luggage had been left open and clothing strewn about.  As far as Dominique's towels and cleaning supplies went, she doubted if a maid would pay much attention to those either.  The towels looked the same as the ones the motel used, and the bottle of glass cleaner was the same brand Dominique had seen hanging from the cart the previous day.  Hopefully, the woman would simply think another maid had already starting working in this room.    

 

     "Well, well, well, Towner, look what we have here.  Either you've started wearin' women's shoes and have been afraid to confess that little quirk to me, or we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto, and my bed has fallen on the Wicked Witch of the West, or we've got ourselves a visitor."

 

     Before Dominique could decide what to do next she was pulled out from underneath the bed by her feet.  In her haste and fright she hadn't noticed she'd only hidden herself up to her ankles. She clawed at the short weave of the burnt orange carpet to no avail. The man's grip on her ankles was too strong.

 

     When Dominique's entire body had emerged from underneath the bed she was gently grasped underneath the arms and lifted to her feet.  The tall white man looked her in the eye.  "You mind tellin' me what exactly it is you're doin' underneath my bed, little lady?"

 

     Dominique's eyes flicked from one man to the other.   "I...I was cleaning, of course.  You've got a lot of dust balls under there.  I'm you're maid...Alice."

 

     Oh, great.  I just gave him the name of the maid on the Brady Bunch.

 

     "Oh...my maid, Alice," Rick Simon nodded.  "Then how come your uniform says you're Tricia?"

 

     With a sinking feeling Dominique followed the path Rick's eyes traveled down to her right breast.  Sure enough, sewn into the white uniform in blue stitching was the name Tricia.  She hadn't even noticed it until the man pointed it out. 

 

     Some detective I turned out to be.

 

     Town shut and locked the door.  "I think you'd better have a seat, Miss."

 

     Dominique began to realize how foolish she'd been.  For all she knew these were the men who had hurt Jack in the first place.  Maybe Jack knew something - what she didn't know, but something they were willing to kill him for.  And if they'd kill Jack, then surely they'd kill her, too, simply for getting in the way.  No one knew where she was.  Not even Malachi.  She had the weekend off work, and had made no specific plans with anyone.  No one would realize she was missing until she didn't show up at the shelter Monday morning.

 

     "Miss," Town said again while indicating to the green chairs by the window, "please have a seat."

 

     Dominique hugged the bed as she scooted between it and Rick.  When she rounded the mattress she made a desperate dash for the door.  Long before she got there Town was standing in front of it.

 

     "That's not going to benefit any of us," he said evenly.  "You're not going anywhere until you give us some answers as to what you're doing in our room."

 

     Dominique jutted her chin out in defiance.  "I already told you.  I'm your maid."  Dominique reached for her sports bag.  "Now if you gentlemen will allow me to collect my things, I'll be on my way.  If I don't get all the rooms finished this morning that my supervisor's assigned me, I'll lose my job."

 

     Rick stepped in-between Dominique and the dresser, blocking her reach for her bag.  "I think you'd better do like my friend says and have a seat."

 

     Dominique glanced from Rick to Town.  The black man nodded to the chairs one last time.  "If you don't talk to us, then you can do your talking at the police station.  It's totally up to you."

 

     Dominique slowly moved for the chair closest to the door.  A small amount of her fear left her.  Would this man really be willing to call the police on her if he and his partner were some kind of criminals themselves?

 

     Town flipped on the overhead light, but remained leaning against the locked door.  Rick came around to sit on the edge of his bed, directly across from Dominique. 

 

     "Okay, lady, give it to us straight.  What the hell were you doin' in our room?"

 

     Now that Dominique was confronted by the men she had no idea what to say that wouldn't reveal she knew Jack.  Fortunately for her, Rick Simon possessed very little patience and didn't seem too intent on waiting for her reply.

 

     "Look, lady, we already know you've been watching us since yesterday."

 

     Dominique couldn't help it, her brown eyes widened in surprise.  Her expression was so readable she might as well have exclaimed what she was thinking. You do?

 

     Town wore an amused smile.  "Let me give you some friendly advice.  Don't peer into the motel room of the people you're casing in broad daylight."

 

     Rick's mouth curved in a smile as well.   "Yeah, and don't be so foolish as to try the door either.  Not to mention the doors of the vehicle the objects of your interest are drivin’."

 

     Town smoothly picked up the list of Dominique's indiscretions.  "And don't sit out in the parking lot at dawn hiding behind a newspaper.  That's the oldest trick in the book."

 

     It was Rick's turn once again.  "Now while we do give you credit for your ingenuity when snagging those room keys from the maid, be sure the uniform you're wearin' is exactly like those of the hired help...Alice.  To a trained eye, you stick out like a sore thumb."

 

     Town spoke up from his place by the door.  "And don't close draperies that have been left open, or open draperies that have been left closed.  You might as well have walked out on the balcony and sent up smoke signals."

 

     Rick nodded toward Dominique's sports bag.  "And don't leave your own stuff layin' aro