Death on the Strip (Death Card Series Book 1) Read online

  Next, I began my research on the internet to see what I could find on strippers or prostitution like Melissa had been involved in. Instead, I became waylaid and intrigued with what I first came upon. It seems not that many years ago the State of Florida had gotten away with creating the Scarlet Letter Law.

  I paused. I had to be careful that what I’d write as an article for the magazine would be accurate. I looked at other sites relating to the Scarlet Letter Law to read what they had to say about how that law had come about and what it meant. I was astonished at what I learned.

  In 2001, a bill including a series of adoption-law revisions (an overhaul of the state’s adoption regulations) passed by large margins in the Florida House and Senate and became law when Gov. Jeb Bush declined to veto it and did that with the understanding that lawmakers would revise the publication section. Meanwhile, this bill wound its way through the courts for two years until Florida’s state courts ruled that the Scarlet Letter law was unconstitutional after women had come forward to challenge it.

  No wonder women had protested it for if any single woman was planning to put her infant up for adoption, she had to first publish her sexual histories in a newspaper if she did not know the identity of the father!

  The Kstreet 607 law reads: The Scarlet Letter law required women to run advertisements disclosing their names, ages, height, hair and eye color, race and weight, the minor’s date of birth, as well as the child’s name and birthplace and a description of the possible father. In addition, she had to list any date and city, including the county and state in which the city is located in which conception may have occurred. Either the mother or the people who wanted to adopt the baby were required to pay for the ad which ran once a week for the duration of a month. The law included no exceptions for victims of rape or minors.

  What was even more concerning for me was to find a tie-in, if you will, with an excerpt from Jeb Bush’s 1995 book, “Profiles in Character.” In the chapter entitled, “The Restoration of Shame” he wrote, “One of the reasons more young women are giving birth out of wedlock and more young men are walking away from their paternal obligations is that there is no longer a stigma attached to this behavior, no reason to feel shame. Many of these young women and young men look around and see their friends engaged in the same irresponsible conduct. Their parents and neighbors have become ineffective at attaching some sense of ridicule to this behavior. There was a time when neighbors and communities would frown on out of wedlock births and when public condemnation was enough of a stimulus for one to be careful.”

  Although I saw some truth in what Jeb Bush had written, it seemed to me what he wanted in his state’s law was the same ridicule that was used in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel, “The Scarlet Letter.” Amazingly, while he was governor, that same condemnation was made obvious by naming the new law, The Scarlet Letter law.

  The more disturbing thought was once again this was another case of how men in positions of power make up rules, regulations, laws and unacknowledged practices that negatively affect women and how they are treated. Another simple example, of course, is the difference in pay between men and women who perform the same duties. What was it I’d heard on the news the other day? A woman in power saying that the only way this would end is if there was a balance in power between men and women. Oh my! That was going to have to be another article for another time. What was I getting myself into!

  I looked at my watch and couldn’t believe how much time had passed. For now, I wanted to concentrate more on what had happened to Melissa and how the world of being a stripper works. As a stripper, wasn’t she most likely under the power of a man as her boss or not? Was her death due to her simply being a stripper as the press was now indicating? I wondered.

  The phone interrupted my thoughts. I answered it with a cautious “Hello?”

  “Is this Rosalie Bennett?” a voice whispered.

  “Yes, it is. How can I help you?”

  “I’m a friend of Melissa. I need to talk to you in person. Is there somewhere we can meet?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Can you come to my house?”

  “No, I don’t think it’s safe for you if I come there.”

  Alarm made me ask, “Are you in danger? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay or I will be if you can help me out.”

  “Can’t you talk to me now?”

  “I’m not in a place where it’s safe to talk. It’s safer if we meet someplace where no one will know we are there together. Some place like the Bellagio Hotel?”

  “Why me?” I asked with hesitation. “Why don’t you go to the police?”

  “I can’t do that. Melissa said you were cool and could be trusted.”

  “Okay,” I said with a deep sigh. “I guess I can meet you. What time?”

  “Now is a good time. Can you meet me now?”

  “Okay. How will I recognize you?”

  “I think you’ll recognize me right away. I’ll be in a ponytail with a red bow and a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on the back of my neck. My name is Sally Smith, by the way.”

  “Do you want to know what I look like?”

  “No, I looked you up on the internet. I’ll recognize you.”

  We made final arrangements of where to meet, and I scurried around wondering if I was heading into danger. I pulled my hair back and gathered it at my neck. I topped it with a baseball cap. Then, I put on a light weight jacket with a hood to cover me up as best I could. Would I need a weapon of some sort? I grabbed my large purse, my security spray, and my iPhone which could record our conversation, if needed.

  I gave Sweet Pea one of her special treats, assured her that dogs weren’t allowed or I would be happy to have her join me. She just stared at me sadly. She never truly believes she is a dog and wonders why I tell her that. She thinks she’s one of the girls in my group of friends.

  Oh well, I sighed. “I’ll be back soon,” I called to her retreating back and headed out the door.

  I hadn’t been to the Bellagio Hotel and Casino in a while. I found it as beautiful as ever. On the large 18 foot ceiling of their reception area hangs the beautiful glass sculpture of flowers called Fiori di Como, created by glass sculptor Dale Chihuly. This exquisite piece of art with its rich bursts of color and varied sizes of flowers lifts my heart each time I enter the hotel and feast my eyes on it.

  The foyer itself holds several huge pots of gorgeous flower arrangements that are the largest and the most beautiful I have ever seen. Beyond are the season gardens. They are another treat that’s a show stopper with its creative sets and themes. It is decorated in alignment with the current season and filled with magnificent live flowers in scenes beyond the imagination. Although it takes up to a year to develop a seasonal creation, it takes only a single night to transform the space into the outstanding creation that draws crowds of tourists, as well as us locals. We look forward to gazing at each and every treat of inspiration, committing them to memory with cameras. I am no exception. It is always worth the trip to the strip to see this never-ending splendor. Today, as I walked through the casino, I could see live birds in a greenhouse located in the center of this new scenario. Each bird was chirping its own tune and flying around landing on various plants, bird feeders, and such.

  I quickly walked beyond these gardens and continued down the hall. I passed the chocolate fountain and the treats that abound inside the glass cases that tempt anyone who passes. I love chocolate and would normally stop by to collect a piece or two of my favorite almond brittle. Not today. I was anxious to meet up with Sally. I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  I spotted the ladies room just beyond the theatre and headed toward it, looking around to see if we’d be alone. It seemed so for it was very quiet with nobody else in sight. I headed inside the bathroom to spot a single pair of feet within the far end stall. I called out, “Hello?”

&nbs
p; When she came out, she looked scared. “I think I was followed.”

  Amazing, I thought as I took her in. For better or worse, she was easy to identify with her blond hair, blue eyes, and over-sized breasts. Her picture was displayed on one of the travelling bill board trucks that advertise sex, and constantly drives throughout the city. I would have to be blind not to have noticed her photo, much less not to recognize her now.

  I felt a warning that something wasn’t right. “Sally?” I asked in a low voice, “Is it all right to talk here? Are we alone?”

  Her face fell and she repeated, “I think I may have been followed.”

  As I stood there, she reached out and grabbed my arm. She pulled me into the deep corner of the restroom. With her voice quavering, she said, “Listen, I need to ask you something. The other night Melissa told me she was taking what she needed to leave the business and Vegas for good. Did she say anything to you about going? Did she tell you anything about taking something that didn’t belong to her?”

  As I waited to respond, I clearly saw a vision of Sally arguing with a man. I knew without question Sally was in trouble.

  Sally whispered, “Melissa was my friend. You can trust me.”

  “Don’t tell her anything, Rosie,” my grandmother whispered, interfering.

  “Did Melissa tell you why she was leaving?” I asked Sally.

  “I think she had something going on but I don’t know what. She was very sad and upset though. I know she had a problem with management of the Lounge at the end. They said she wasn’t doing enough to keep the clients happy. She told me her heart wasn’t in it any longer.”

  “Melissa had a black eye. What was that all about?” I pushed.

  “That happens sometimes,” she said, waving that away.

  “Did she have a boyfriend?” I asked, urging her on.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t have all the answers. I came here to ask you if you knew anything about Melissa taking something that wasn’t hers, that’s all! I need to find what’s missing, that’s it. Just please answer the question, yes or no?”

  Something wasn’t making sense. The money amount in Melissa’s envelope wasn’t large enough for Sally’s boss to worry about in the scheme of things. The private letter to her mom and even the note to me were personal. None of anyone’s business as far as I was concerned. So I answered, “Unfortunately, no. She never mentioned taking anything that wasn’t hers,” I answered with my fingers crossed, twisting the truth a bit by not mentioning the money. “What did she take anyhow?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” she added. “I didn’t think you knew anything and weren’t involved in any way.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” I asked.

  “I dunno. I can’t believe this all has happened, ya know?” she answered in a genuinely sad voice.

  “Yes, I know what you mean. It’s really unbelievable to think that she was beaten to death. And for what? I can’t understand it. Why would someone do that?”

  Sally was quiet, shaking her head, saying nothing.

  “Well then, Sally, since there’s nothing more to say, I guess I’ll be on my way. You have my telephone number. Will you let me know if there is going to be a service or anything for Melissa?”

  Sally looked at me with sad eyes. “I’ll try calling you later,” she whispered in a subdued voice.

  “Be careful,” I whispered back so low it would be impossible for anyone else to hear. “I’ll leave first then you follow in a couple of minutes, okay?”

  She agreed, and I covered up my face as much as I could before leaving the restroom. I was curious to see if anyone had followed Sally. I knew a place beside the theatre where I could hide to see if anyone would approach Sally when she left the Ladies Room. All I had to do was slip into that spot without anyone taking notice. I looked around and saw no one. So I tucked myself in and waited.

  Five long minutes passed before I saw Sally emerge from the bathroom. As soon as she did, a dark-haired man approached her from the other end of the hall. He grabbed for her and tightly held onto her left arm, pushing her forward. They were arguing. I couldn’t see his face, but his hair style was a bit unusual like in the 1930s. Perhaps I’d be able to recognize him again.

  Sally didn’t look happy and complained to the man, “Why are you holding onto me like this? I told you I don’t know anything!”

  I couldn’t hear what the man whispered to her, but Sally relaxed and stopped struggling because there were several women walking toward them. Behind them, there were even more women chatting and laughing with each other as they approached. One of the conference sessions must have let out and the women were looking to refresh themselves in the Ladies Room. When I became stalled amidst them, I lost track of Sally and her escort.

  Damn. Time to head on home and see if the Tarot cards could shed some light on my increasing concern for Sally. What would they reveal?

  CHAPTER 5

  I arrived home wrapped in concern for what I was sensing. I didn’t think the ramifications of Melissa’s death were going to go away anytime soon. I could feel there was more to come. Things weren’t right and hadn’t been since the first moment I’d sat with Melissa and the Tarot cards. Things weren’t adding up. Where did the money come from? What did Sally mean when she said she didn’t know about anything else? What was holding me back from reporting this to the police? I could be in serious trouble for keeping it quiet. Was I willing to take that risk? How did Sally fit into all of this? Why did I feel Sally was being used as a pawn by the person who had been involved in Melissa’s death? What was the link between them all?

  When I opened the back door from the garage into the house, there was no Sweet Pea there to greet me. She must still be upset, waiting in her chair for me to greet her, I thought. As I rounded my way into the living room, there she was resting on the overstuffed leather chair with one eye opened. She stared at me, just waiting for my welcome. I went to her calling out, “Hi there, baby girl. I’m home,” giving her hugs and kisses. Doing the opposite of what most dog training books advise you to do when greeting your dog. Her tail wagged, my leaving her behind all forgiven.

  I left her to collect my Tarot cards. As I was shuffling the cards, my mind wandered. How was I going to find out more about Melissa’s life? Was there anyone I could trust? Another of Melissa’s friends? Did she have a roommate?

  “Turn on the TV news,” my grandmother whispered.

  I hurriedly slammed my Tarot cards down on the table as I raced to the television and turned on the news. When I did, a single tarot card fell out onto the floor, a warning, perhaps? I ignored it. I would have to look at it later, I thought, as I turned up the volume on the TV. There was an attractive, blond-haired girl, looking a little worn and tired. She was answering questions from the reporters who surrounded her. Right in the midst of it all was Brian Boyce. “Of course, he would be there, the center of attention,” I muttered, unreasonably annoyed.

  “So, Mary,” he was asking, “You said you didn’t see Melissa at all during the day and evening before she died?”

  “No. I slept in that morning because it had been a late night, you know.” She stood there before Brian brightening her expression, obviously pleased with the attention he was giving her.

  “Did you and Melissa get along as roommates? Were you close?”

  This time, Mary began fluttering her eyes at Brian, acting coy before finally speaking, “I guess you could say we were close. We shared the same life.”

  “Mary, I know you must be upset with Melissa’s death and all. Do you know of anyone who would want her dead?” Brian asked.

  The camera came close, aiming their sights on Mary’s face. Although she was enjoying the attention, there was a barely noticeable flick of her eyes and the enlarging of her pupils as Brian asked his question. She knows something, I thought, and I am goi
ng to find out what!

  As Mary was shaking her head no to the question, Brian stepped fully into the camera’s view. “Folks, there will be more news to come as the details of this ghastly murder unfolds. Brian Boyce, Channel 5. Over and out.”

  I stepped back from the television and watched the following news story air. It showed an angry ex-boyfriend. In a jealous rage, he had returned to the girlfriend’s house and killed both her and her mother who had been visiting for a few days. All that in spite of a restraining order she had out on him. I felt sick. I usually don’t watch the news because it’s so violent. This was just another case of why I didn’t. Restraining orders. They never seem to work, I fumed. Down the road, this would be another excellent topic for my new column in the Women Living Well magazine.

  I returned to the table and picked up the Tarot card that had dropped onto the floor. The Death card, of course. Why wouldn’t it be with all the crazy things happening around me? “Enough. Back to research,” I muttered.

  I sat in front of my computer wondering where to start. You’ve got to love computers today for they certainly are the blabber mouths of our society and those around the world. Is anything confidential anymore? I doubt it.

  I typed in the Purple Passion Lounge. I was surprised there wasn’t much there. It was a site where you needed a code to get into it beyond the home page. The home page showed Sally in a common provocative stance – all bum and tits. The background behind her showed the lounge area glowing with garish purple lights so gaudy it make me wonder if clowns were waiting in the background ready to perform.