CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Norris didn't really like what she was thinking, but he agreed to look and "be in touch." It was not exactly what she had in mind. What she wanted was for him to go look while she was on the phone, but she didn't want to seem too pushy. Before returning it to her purse, Veronica checked the volume on her phone yet again and yet again it was at the maximum. Where are you Logan? She was afraid he was no longer grounded. A grounded Logan would be calling her. What I need is a distraction.
Veronica left the bedroom in search of whatever remained of her turkey sandwich. Her steps faltered outside the kitchen.
"…could both use a little happiness, don't you think?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure he's the one to make Veronica happy."
Dottie was taken aback, "have you listened to her? The only time she seems remotely happy is when she talks about Logan and the baby and their future together."
Veronica stepped into the tension filled kitchen effectively putting an end to their conversation. Keith looked up, "are you ready to eat? We saved you a sandwich."
"No. I was just coming to say goodbye. I, uh, am going baby shopping." Since when, Veronica? "Apparently I need a lot of stuff." She turned to Dottie, "would you like to come with me?"
Relief spread across her face, "I would love to."
"Great. So what exactly is a Johnny Jump Up and more importantly, do I need one?" She gave Keith a quick kiss on the cheek, "I will call you later."
They agreed to take Dottie's minivan because it would give them more room for their purchases. "Are you sure you own a Mustang or did you just tell me that to make me feel better?"
Dottie's laughter was strained. "It's still in the shop, but I promise I have one." She gave Veronica a sidelong glance, "you weren't really going baby shopping were you?"
"Was I that obvious?"
"A little." Dottie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, "so where do you want me to take you?"
Evidence lockup, the Neptune Grand, Cara Murphy's office, the Sandpiper Lounge, Nico Benedetti's club, an aircraft carrier in the Persian Gulf. "Baby shopping."
Dottie was right. The only time she was happy lately was when she was thinking about Logan and the baby. Maybe she couldn't spend a day lounging in bed, but she could indulge herself in a normal afternoon. They drove to a place called Goodnight Baby. The face of the store was painted to resemble the cover of the children's book, Goodnight Moon and the glass doors were framed in red with moons and stars on them.
They were greeted by their own personal shopper, Rebecca-but-please-call-me-Becky. Becky had her complete a Mommy-to-Be card with her name, the daddy's name, due date, sex of the baby, and shipping address. When she got to the shipping address, Dottie took the card from her and filled in the address of the house. Veronica arched a brow at her, but didn't say anything. She could always call the store later and change it.
Next, Rebecca handed her a "baby checklist" that was two pages long and daunting in its detail. Veronica was exhausted just looking at it. Dottie reassured her, "we don't need to get everything today; we can just focus on the big items."
Focusing on the big items entailed them starting with a crib and something Becky called a "co-sleeper," which was essential if you were going to breastfeed, "you are going to breastfeed right?" The way she asked the question made Veronica panicky, like if she gave the wrong answer she would fail. Fail at what she wasn't sure, baby shopping, motherhood? Why did you think this was a good idea, Veronica? Why don't you stick to what you're good at? Investigating clues and finding killers.
Dottie steered her away from the helpful Becky. Once they were on their own it was easier for Veronica to breathe and to select a crib, a sleigh crib in a warm honey colored wood. They ordered the matching dresser and changing table along with a glider rocking chair and ottoman. A co-sleeper, carriage, car seat, and bouncer later, and she was done. She handed the list to Dottie, "to be continued."
"But you didn't get any of the fun stuff."
From Dottie's frown, Veronica knew her expression clearly reflected her thought that none of this was fun. She forced a smile, "where is this fun stuff you speak of?"
She hesitated unsure if Veronica really meant it, but then led her to the back of the store. One half of the back room was devoted to baby bedding and the other half to tiny baby clothes. Dottie started filling a cart with onesies, "you can never have enough of them," socks, mittens, caps, and pajamas while Veronica trailed behind her. Whenever she would hold up something and ask, "isn't this adorable?" Veronica would nod and offer a non-committal, "mmm hmm."
Absentmindedly, Veronica flipped through the racks of baby clothes. She paused when she came across a baby sailor dress. It was white with navy blue polka dots and two bands of navy on the hem. There were matching blue bands on the collar and it had a blue bow, which tied at the neck. It came with a navy diaper cover with polka dot frills across the butt, a polka dot beret with a bow and a pair of tiny navy blue booties. Her heart melted and she was hooked.
By the time they were done the back of Dottie's minivan was loaded with bags. "Did we leave anything in the store?"
Dottie laughed, "I don't think so."
"Can we make a quick stop on our way home?"
"Food?"
"Computer store." Veronica checked her still very silent phone and composed a quick email to Logan: Hey, not sure you got my earlier email so I'm trying again. Think you can arrange a Skype date? I miss you. She hit send and tried to forget that it was over twenty-four hours since his last attempt to reach her and three days since she'd last spoken with him.
After stopping to purchase a new laptop, webcam, and printer, Dottie drove her back to Keith's house for her car. Veronica didn't want to go inside and acknowledging that fact made her sad. Normally it was easy for her to compartmentalize, avoiding the topic of Logan in most, if not all, of their conversations. Whenever he did come up, they kept is light. Dad would ask how he was and she would respond, he's good and then they moved on to easier subjects. She knew he was worried about her and she also knew some of that concern was her fault. It was probably long past time she had a serious talk with him about Logan.
"Don't worry it will get easier between the two of them once they spend more time together." The spending time together was what she was worried about. A lifetime, her child's lifetime, of birthday parties and holidays and family get-togethers stretched in front of Veronica. It would not be good if daddy and grandpa could not build some sort of relationship.
"Here's hoping." All of her purchases would not fit in the trunk of Logan's car. Dottie volunteered to follow her back to Dick's house and Veronica readily took her up on the offer. No one was home when they arrived and it took them multiple trips to get everything inside. When they were done, Veronica said her goodbyes and promised to call when she was ready for round two of baby shopping.
She took a quick shower and did her hair and makeup. Her outfit choices were limited. The dress she wore for Piz's funeral was too sedate for her plans. She put on a stretch black miniskirt, a black sleeveless shirt with a sheer back and a pair of black espadrilles that laced up her legs. Her black leather sleeved jacket still fit, if she didn't plan on closing it at any point in the evening.
Dick was standing in the living room amidst all her shopping bags. He whistled when he saw her, "you don't need to put that much effort into it for me Ronnie, I'm easy."
"Easy is a step up from where you are Dick."
He grinned, "so what is all this? Someone else moving in to Chez Dick and if so please say it's a hot redhead."
"It's stuff for the baby."
"How many babies are you having?"
"Five, like a litter of puppies." She deadpanned before opening the door, "don't wait up."
"Wasn't planning on it."
The Neptune Grand had undergone some changes while she was away, but the main part of the hotel was still the same. A new five-star restaurant, Salacia, now occupied the top floor of the added north tower. Salacia, the wife of Neptune was worshipped as a goddess and ruled over the ocean. Veronica smiled; obviously Petra Landros had a high opinion of herself. She stood around the lobby for awhile in clear view of the front desk, hoping the clerk would remember her later, and then took the elevator to the restaurant.
Veronica gave her name to the maitre d' and he escorted her across the marble floor to a table by the windows. The view was the same from Logan's old balcony albeit from a higher vantage point. Since there wasn't time to indulge in multiple courses, she skipped right ahead to the entrée of a grilled lamb chop and mixed vegetables. The one, very skinny lamb chop looked wonderful and tasted even better; however like all good nouvelle cuisine she left with both an empty wallet and an empty stomach. There was definitely going to be a fast food drive-thru in her future.
After paying the check, she got back in the elevator and went down one flight to a floor of guest rooms. The hallway was deserted. She wandered down the hall toward the stairs until she found a fire extinguisher cabinet. As long as there were no fires in the next fifteen minutes, she should be safe. Veronica opened the cabinet, wedged her purse behind the canister, closed the door and stepped back to make sure you couldn't see it. Too bad the air vents are all out of reach.
Logan.
With her luck, he would call while she was away from her phone. She ran her fingers through her hair until it looked properly "mussed" and took the elevator back to the lobby. The second the doors slid open she rushed to the front desk.
"May I help you?"
"Hi," she glanced at his name tag and lowered her voice, "Ethan. This is a little embarrassing, but I was having a date with one of your guests and we had a slight disagreement over price and when I stepped out of the room to call my…let's call him my manager, my date locked me out. Problem is I left my purse in his room and I can't remember which room number it is and we didn't exactly exchange names, if you know what I mean."
Ethan flushed a deep shade of crimson and started to fidget. He stammered, "I'm, uh, not really, uh, sure how I can, uh, help you."
"He's a new guest, he just checked in on Monday. Nico Benedetti made the reservation, if that helps?"
"I don't think I can…"
Veronica cut him off, "look Petra Landros gave specific instructions to take care of this guest and if I screw this up I will never be able to work this hotel again. Do you want that to happen to me?"
He started clicking keys on his computer. "We had a lot of check-ins on Monday."
Veronica considered the problem and factored in the involvement of the hotel's owner, "how many are single males in hospitality suites?"
Ethan did some more tapping, "one. I could lose my job if…"
"No one will know, I promise."
He leaned closer to her, "Lev Sorokin, room 1210."
"Sorokin?" She felt dizzy and it wasn't from lack of food. Weevil warned her that Nico Benedetti was dangerous and connected, but she wasn't expecting this. Veronica stepped away from the desk and took the elevator upstairs to retrieve her purse. Nico was waiting on a transfer, she assumed a money transfer, from his partner on the same day Lev Sorokin arrives in town. Was he the partner or the reminder? Either way it meant there was trouble in river city, trouble with a capital T.
A familiar face, hawk nose and cleft chin, was walking toward the elevator. Even though he wore an expensive, tailored grey suit and matching tie, on him it didn't look so much like a style choice as it did a uniform and his unruly mess of curly brown hair ruined any hint of gentility. When he noticed her, he stopped short. "Veronica Mars."
"Ratner." She saw the brass nameplate pinned to his lapel, "are you still working here?"
"Are you still sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong?" He smoothed down his tie, "I'm the manager now."
"Bully for you."
"What are you doing in my hotel?"
"Leaving." She retrieved the car from the valet and drove to The Spot to pick up a dinner that would satisfy more than a baby bird. Veronica ordered their spicy chorizo potato skins, the French Dip sandwich, and a bottle of water to go. It was a short drive to the Sandpiper and she managed to snag a spot on the ocean side of the PCH near the overlook.
Lev Sorokin, Gory's uncle, the 'dispose of cut up bodies in hefty bags' uncle. Veronica didn't peg him as the man with the money, but rather someone brought in to take care of a little clean up. On the plus side, he arrived before Nico realized she wasn't Rory Gilmore, so she felt relatively safe. On the down side, she had no idea if this had anything at all to do with Piz or if it was just business as usual for the mob.
Her cell phone chimed the arrival of a new email: Lucy, you've got some 'splaining to do. Skype tomorrow night, nine your time. I'm glad you're okay and I miss you too. Relief washed over her and she finished her dinner with renewed zeal.
After locking up the car, she tossed her trash in the nearest bin and walked the two blocks to the bar. The Sandpiper Lounge was what you would call a dive bar. Locals referred to it as the dirty bird and they loved it, despite the five dollar cover charge, the dirty floors, and the dim lighting. It was what every local bar should be- rowdy and entertaining, except for tonight.
Tonight there was no band, but she still had to pay the cover charge, and there weren't many people. According to Yelp, Thursdays were their busiest night, aside from the weekends. Good thing Piz decided to get smashed on a Wednesday; it increased the odds that someone might remember him.
Veronica took a seat at the bar. The bartender looked like Gandalf. He was busy serving drinks at the far end of the room and it took a long time for him to wander over to her. She expected him to say, a wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to, but instead he offered the more generic, "what can I get you pretty lady?" Veronica was disappointed.
"I was hoping you could help me." She put her bag on the bar and slid out the picture of Piz. "A friend of mine has gone missing and this is the last place he was seen."
He barely glanced at the picture, "haven't seen him."
"Could you please look again?" Veronica started to cry, "he's not just a friend. He's more than…I'm really worried about him. I don't know what I'm going to do if I can't find him."
His expression said he wasn't buying her act, but he picked up the photo. "When did you say he was here?"
She debated on how much information to give him. She didn't want him to associate the date with the murder and realize Piz was more than missing, but she wanted to supply him with enough facts to jog his memory. "It was a Wednesday night, beginning of the month; friends say he got really drunk?"
Gandalf stroked his beard and shook his head. "Nope, sorry, nothing really stands out about the guy."
"Was there anyone else working?"
"Wednesday nights it's usually just me." Veronica slid the photo back in with the pictures of Marjorie.
"Going to show me that other one?"
Veronica shrugged. What do you have to lose? She handed him the photo of Marjorie Kincaid.
It took him no time at all. He banged his pointer finger down on the center of Marjorie's face, "her I remember. Took an entire four top for one person, then nursed a club soda all night and left no tip."
Here's to being cheap. "Was it the same night maybe? Wednesday?"
Gandalf was excited, "most definitely. We're pretty slow early part of the week, ladies night or a Friday, Saturday we would've made her give up the table." His eyes wandered across the bar toward said table, "let me see the other dude again." Veronica put the picture of Piz back on the counter. "Yes. Now I remember him. Completely shitfaced, drinking cocktails." His 'real men don't have fruity mixed drinks' opinion was inherent in the way he used the word cocktail. "I had to call him a cab."
"Were they together?"
More stroking of the beard, "No, but now that you mention it…" Veronica followed his gaze as it moved back to the table, and then down to a seat at the far end of the bar. "I kinda feel like she was watching him. 'Course it could just be that he was an ass. At some point he started singing that crappy eighties song, what was it?" He snapped his fingers, "Love Stinks. You know the one, you love her and she loves him. He got pretty loud and obnoxious. Hell, half the bar was staring at him." Gandalf seemed pretty impressed with himself and his memory.
"Did they leave together?"
"No. After his jacked up karaoke I called the cab, but she did leave right after him, and I mean right after him."