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Here I am now, in the same spot as I was that day, surrounded by a menagerie of mementoes. But this time, I’m dreadfully alone.
“Gran,” I say to the empty room, “I think I’m in trouble.”
I arrange the photos on top of the curio cabinet. I polish each of Gran’s treasures and stow them safely behind the glass. I stand in front of the cabinet looking at everything inside. I don’t know what to do.
You’re never alone as long as you have a friend.
I’ve been managing on my own through most of this, but perhaps it really is time to call for help.
I go to the front door where I left my phone. I pick it up and dial Rodney.
He answers after the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hello, Rodney,” I say. “I hope I haven’t caught you at an inopportune moment.”
“All good,” he says. “What’s up? I saw you leave the hotel with the cops. Everyone’s talking, saying you’re in trouble.”
“I’m sorry to report that in this particular case, the gossip may be correct.”
“What did the police want?”
“The truth,” I say. “About me. About Giselle. Mr. Black didn’t die of an overdose. Not exactly.”
“Oh, thank God for that. What did he die of?”
“They don’t know yet. But it’s clear they suspect me. And maybe Giselle too.”
“But…you didn’t tell them anything about her, did you?”
“Not much,” I say.
“And you didn’t mention Juan Manuel or any of that, right?”
“What does he have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. So…why are you calling me?”
“Rodney, I need help.” My voice cracks and I find it difficult to maintain my composure.
He goes quiet for a moment, then asks, “Did you…didyoukill Mr. Black?”
“No! Of course not. How could you even—”
“Sorry, sorry. Forget I even said that. So how are you in trouble exactly?”
“Giselle, she had me go back into the suite because she’d left something behind. A gun. She wanted it back. And she’s my friend, so I…”
“Jesus.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Right.”
“Rodney?”
“Yes, I’m here,” he says. “So where’s that gun now?”
“In my vacuum cleaner. By my locker.”
“We have to get that gun,” Rodney says. I can hear the agitation in his voice. “We have to make it disappear.”
“Yes! Exactly,” I say. “Oh Rodney, I’m so sorry to involve you in all of this. And please, if the police ever talk to you, you have to tell them I’m not a bad person, that I would never hurt anyone.”
