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"Sure," she chirped.
I scooted back quickly and headed to the bathroom, unsure how to get out of this date. We were basically the only ones at the restaurant, and my driver couldn't do anything. Clarence was great and had been my driver for years. Still, I was pretty sure, no matter how dimwitted this girl was, she would not believe my driver when he came in with a sudden emergency. I put both hands on the sink and let my head hang, feeling that the next couple of hours would be hell.
Turning on the faucet, I splashed some water on my face and stared at myself in the mirror, trying to give myself a pep talk. Then, somewhere behind me, I heard someone move. Glancing in the mirror, I saw only one stall with the door closed. I turned and squatted down, seeing no feet in any stalls.
Standing back up, I shook my head. "Get it together, Guy."
I had been paranoid since the murder at work almost two years before. My fear grew with all the weird occurrences that had happened since then -- attempted kidnapping, beating up a cop, attacking Ryder's now soon-to-be wife, and the dead severed hog's head. None of it revealed any leads on who was stalking down the guys. All five of us worked so hard to build our company and our lives, and in some ways, it felt like it was all unraveling.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward, shaking my head. "Don't go down that rabbit hole, Guy. Right now, your biggest threat has bleached hair, plastic boobs, and likes to act like she was a hippy from the valley."
I turned off the water and grabbed some paper towels, drying off my face before tossing them in the trash. I tightened my tie in the mirror but froze when I heard another sound. It was like the sound the back of the toilet made when it was sliding, porcelain scraping with porcelain.
Turning back to the stalls, I glanced around nervously. "Hello? Am I alone in here?"
When no one responded, I walked over to the first five stalls, pushing the door open. The first was empty. The second was empty. I reached for the third, my anxiety rising. I pushed it open hard, but it was empty as well. The fourth door was all the way open. I chuckled to myself as I approached the last stall, knowing I was scaring myself for no reason.
I put my fingers on the fifth stall door and glanced around. "Alright, ghost of the Italian bathroom. Last chance to reveal yourself." Chuckling, I swung open the fifth stall and stumbled back, covering my mouth. "Oh god! Clarence."
My driver was slumped on the back of the toilet. His legs were bent, and he was posed with his shoes on the toilet seat. His head was back, his throat slit. His front was covered in blood, and a knife stuck out from his chest. Pinned by the knife was a blood-soaked, folded piece of paper. I swallowed hard and, with a shaking hand, reached forward, grabbing the edge of the paper. Carefully I tugged, ripping it from the knife. I quickly stumbled back, unfolding the paper. The words were put together with cut-out letters from newspapers.
"The surfer was a washout. The biker got his happiness but barely. Let's see what we can do with you, Guy. Secrets, secrets everywhere. Your past haunts you now, but just wait until I get ahold of you. Have fun on your date. You might have to catch a cab home."
I shook my head, turned, and grabbed the sink, immediately vomiting the little bit of whiskey I had in my stomach. I wanted to get out of my date, but murder as a reason was taking it a bit far. Though, from how things were going, my date might want to get out while she could. My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I could barely think. Everything was spinning, including my ability to know what to do next.
Reaching out to turn on the faucet, I stared down at my shaking hand, blood covering my fingertips. I stared for several seconds before pumping soap into my palms and washing the blood away feverishly. Looking into the mirror, I could see Clarence, like in a scene from a horror movie. That's when I noticed the writing on the wall. I spun around, raising my phone to snap a picture but stopped, realizing that was not something I wanted to be cemented into my mind or on my phone.
"January 6th... "
I shook my head. What the hell did that mean? The killer kept putting that date up over and over again.
My mind swirled violently around, and the next few hours were a blur. It was incredibly stressful dealing with the cops and the detective and answering all those redundant questions. Not to mention that the media had gotten wind, and a perimeter was set up around the place just to keep them from barging through the doors.
I sat in the empty restaurant, staring at my untouched beer, waiting to be told I could go home. The sound of squeaking wheels caught my attention, and I turned, watching as they rolled a body bag on a stretcher toward the door. I felt a lump in my throat, thinking of Clarence in there. I had always been friendly with him, and he felt comfortable with me, having been my driver for so long, but I had never taken the time to really get to know him. It felt horrible to think I was that closed off from the world, too distracted by the craziness of my life and my company to be a human every once in a while.
Suddenly, my date's selfishness - what was her name -- didn't seem so far away from me after all.
"Guy," Detective Carter said, coming from the back. "I think I have everything I need from you for tonight. Are you planning any trips in the coming week?"
I shook my head, leaving my drink on the bar. "No. Am I a suspect?"
Carter glanced up from his notepad. "No. I just want to make sure we keep an eye on you for safety and that you are available if I have any questions."
While I believed him, I couldn't help but notice the accusatory look in his eye. It made me feel uncomfortable, almost guilty, even though I wasn't. I nodded. "Right. Um, no, I don't have anything planned. I don't do much of the traveling for the company."
He nodded, making a note. "Good. And just to be clear: from what you can remember, you only touched the paper on the body and then the sink, right?" I nodded. " And you opened the other doors as well."
I rubbed my hand over my face, everything a blur. "I think so. I mean, yes. It's hard to remember everything my hands landed on. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know."
"Thank you," Carter said, beginning to turn, and then stopped.
"And by the way, that date of yours…she was…"
"A nightmare," I said with a chuckle.
He laughed. "Yeah, wow. But that nightmare gave you an alibi, so that's good. Anyway, there will be guards on your block and a police officer outside your house for a while. You have my information if you need it."
I shook his card in the air and smiled. "Thanks. These are becoming a collectors item. The company will have to start its own security service if we don't catch this guy soon."
