Vivien wasted no time going to work checking out the room. Her motions were practiced and methodical as she pulled back the sheets and checked all the drawers. She went through the room with single-minded focus. I don’t think she was aware she had seemed to fall into some kind of routine.
“What are you looking for?” Jamal asked. Miranda had washed the blood off her hand and her fingers curved around his shoulder to keep him close by. Timothy stood outside as the rest of us crowded the room. We’d call him in if we needed him.
“Anything that can tell me either where he was before, or where he might go,” Vivien said absentmindedly. She didn’t realize she was doing it again. Returning to some unconscious habit the way she did when fighting vampires. It was tied to her past, and I felt we were close to pulling on the right thread so the whole thing would untangle before our eyes.
“Can I help?” Jamal asked Vivien, before looking up at his mom.
Vivien paused, opening the drawers. “Sure, kid, go check out the bathroom and note any personal items he might have left behind, then come back and tell me what you see.” Just as he was about to disappear, she stopped him. “Make sure to lift the lid on the toilet tank and let me know if anything is in the tank.”
Just as Vivien shut the closet, no personal effects left behind, Jamal emerged from the bathroom with a report. “No personal stuff. He even took the hotel soaps. I lifted the tank like you said and there wasn’t anything except for some pieces of duct tape stuck inside.”
Vivien grinned, then patted Jamal on the back. “Good going, kid.” She disappeared into the bathroom. I followed her in, Jamal on my heels.
Miranda relaxed while her ten-year-old shot her a giant goofy grin of pride.
I folded my arms, waiting for Vivien to reveal the source of her excitement.
Ceramic scraped against itself as Vivien pulled the top of the tank off and set the lid onto the bathroom counter. Wadded towels littered the ground and counter. “Well, at least we can guess why he ran,” Vivien said, pointing at the duct tape.
“What does it mean?” Jamal asked. Indeed, I was also curious as to her excitement.
There was a shining gleam of victory in her eyes. “Some guys love room service but hide their valuables in the toilet tank.”
“Why not use the room safe?” I asked, pointing toward the closet. Safes were standard with rooms in this hotel.
“Hotel management can still open the safes,” Vivien said, “but he wanted whatever he was packing to be completely undetected. And be in a safe spot where no one would find it.”
“You think he was moving drugs,” Miranda said.
Vivien made a finger gun and pointed it at Miranda. “Exactly.” Then turning to me, she said, “Do you think I’m some kind of cop? Maybe that’s why Skip ran? I could be some big hotshot police detective. Maybe I’m in narcotics.”
“Yes,” I said. “Because you are so excellent in situations where you have to follow rules and yield to authority.” Despite her investigative skills, I doubted she was an officer of the law.
Vivien frowned. “Hey, I could be. I’m more like a Mel Gibson kind of cop. I probably have some tragic past which makes me crazy, but also crazy smart.” She snapped her fingers. “I bet I even torture some poor schmuck who keeps trying to shrink my head, but I play with his instead.”
Jamal lit up. “And your captain is always pissed off you’ve wrecked a bunch of cars trying to get your man.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Vivien nodded with vigor. “But I’m too good to fire, so they have to keep me on board.”
Both were now egging each other on with their inane theories.
“Maybe you have a partner who helps cover for you too. Loose cannon cops always have some straitlaced partner who helps cover their butt.”
“Time out.” Miranda teed her hands, albeit at her side to accommodate her sling. “I think the only thing we can confirm here is that both you and my son love action movies. And this still doesn’t help us find Skip.”
“You’re right,” Vivien said, frowning again. She passed by us and went straight for the garbage by the dresser. Pulling out papers, she smoothed them on the desk. A wrinkle of concentration formed between her eyebrows. “You said he was here for how long?” Vivien asked Miranda.
“Seven days. He was booked out for thirteen but ran for the hills when he spotted you.”
“This dude has a thing for Luiggi’s Pizza Palace,” she said. “The address is a little way off the Strip, and he has three receipts here and he orders the same thing every time. Dude has a habit, and that’s how we are going to find him.”
Jamal stared up at Vivien in wide-eyed wonder. “That’s awesome. You are going to catch this guy using pizza?”
“Yep,” she said. “And next time he orders a pizza, we are going to forcehimto deliver some answers.”
“Awesome,” the kid breathed.
I shared a look with Miranda. Without saying a word, we agreed her discovery was viable, and that we were in the presence of not one child, but two.
