The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 42

   

Helene Ballings (Gary Kent’s girlfriend)

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Debbie & Hayden Olander (Neighbor)

     

Gena & Katherine Foster  (Gary Kent’s neighbors)

Craig & Victoria Mooney   (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and step-daughter)

David & Amy Brosette (David accused for killing his wife Amy)

     

Gary Kent (Actor, producer, director)

Big Rosa (Gary Kent’s dog)

Beast (Ivy Kim’s turtle)

Connie Ding (Japanese masseuse)

CHAPTER 42

 

Helene Ballings didn’t look a bit surprised about the detective’s visit. She right away opened the door to allow her to step inside.

The home was clean and tidy, without a staged feeling of showing off the architecture, furnishings, and accessories. A nice aroma of coffee filtered through the family room.

There was something about Miss Ballings that Ivy really liked. Perhaps it’s her relaxed and very natural mannerisms. She was not a native Texan, not with that accent. More likely from the West Coast.

She wore an Indian sari, light green, and was barefoot. On the floor in front of the TV, a purple yoga mat was rolled out. A muted video of a yoga instructor was on.

“Coffee?” Helene grabbed a mug from the kitchen counter.

Ivy shook her head.

“I know. I should drink green tea, but nobody’s perfect.” She smiled and poured a cup of coffee for herself. “I love your hair color. I’m sure you get lots of stares.”

“Not so much anymore. I’m back to red again; but sometimes it’s purple, blue, even green. People get used to other people being different, and then they find themselves doing it, too.”

“Please have a seat.” She pointed to a comfy armchair.

Ivy sat down.

The slim, agile woman bent down and got comfortable in a cross-legged sitting position on the yoga mat.

“It keeps me sane,” she said and made a gesture showing her perfect yoga posture. “Body, mind, and soul. I meditate. If we don’t know ourselves, how can we then interact with other people?”

“So do you know yourself?” Ivy wasn’t sure what that implicated.

“I’m still surprised what I learn about myself…sometimes even shocked.” She patted her hand on the mat. “Come sit next to me.”

“On the floor?” Ivy looked at her with a slight elevation of her eyebrows.

She nodded.

Reluctantly, Ivy moved from the comfortable armchair to the yoga mat on the floor where she moved into the same position as her new yoga instructor. Unbelievable what I do to get information out of people.

“Now close your eyes.”

“I’m a detective. We keep our eyes open,” she said and looked around.

“You can still see with your eyes closed.”

Ivy closed her eyes and sat for a moment in silence.

“Now, tell me what you see.” Helene’s voice was warm and soothing.

“Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

A colorful picture surprisingly shaped for her inner eye. “I…,” she chuckled, “I think I see a face.” She paused. “I see a man’s face…Gosh!” She opened her eyes, unexpectedly staring into Helene’s peaceful face. “Hee! That was interesting.”

“There you go. We can all see, even with our eyes closed. So what are you looking for with your open, detective eyes?”

“Debbie Olander suggested I talk to you,” Ivy was still surprised by her experience.

“I like Debbie. She and I used to be close friends. Then I started dating Gary, and everything changed. Katherine and Debbie are neighbors, and their children are in the same class. Debbie doesn’t want to do anything to destroy that friendship.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Gary. And a woman in San Jose.”

“That’s far away.”

“Yeah, my husband got a job here, so we moved. He got sick and passed away. Don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“So do you belong here?”

“If I belong here.” She laughed. “I’m probably the only Democrat and Buddhist in this neighborhood,” she said and smiled.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Special.”

“Do they talk to you?”

“They tolerate me…No, I think they find me interesting. Something to talk about. Something very different from their silly charity balls with made-up princesses and all that nonsense. I always wonder why they put on these theatrics. Is that really what they dream about?”

Ivy recalled how Victoria had begged her to be part of the local chapter of The Women’s Beautification League. Craig had encouraged her since most of his colleagues and business associates’ wives were members. Once a year, they would put on this enormous ball, and the young girls would dress up as princesses in the most stunning dresses, be escorted by the successful families’ sons. Finally, she had given in; but shortly after, she and Craig had separated and The Women’s Beautification League was not a place for divorcees.

“They are all members of the country club. All they do is play tennis, golf, and go to luncheons,” she continued. “I don’t play golf or tennis. They talk a lot. I can do that, but honestly I’ve never figured out what they talk about. Lots of words are coming out of their mouths, but altogether they don’t make any sense. During the last presidential election, I was invited to a luncheon. I happened to bring up something about one of the candidates when a woman told me that we didn’t discuss politics.”

“So what do they talk about?”

“The women who couldn’t make it to the luncheon. Their very important but very abusive husbands. How to look young and sexy even if they don’t have a sex drive anymore.” She looked at Ivy. “Recently, they have talked about Amy Brosette, the West Lake woman who was run over by her husband…can’t really blame him…There you go! Now I’m gossiping. I’m a fast learner.”

“Did you know Amy Brosette?”

“I’d met her. But you see, she didn’t really mingle with people from River Place. I guess she has to now. Don’t think we have a choice when we’re dead.”

“And one day we’ll all mingle with Katherine Foster, “Ivy said. “How well did you know her?”

“She lives in my neighborhood. She introduced me to the book club. I like books; but we always had to read the books she recommended, so I stopped showing up.”

“So what do you think about this snake attack?”

“I’m sorry. But I’m sure you want me to be honest. I really think she got what she deserved. I didn’t want her dead, of course, but what a snake she was!”

A tingling told Ivy that her legs were about to get numb. She felt stuck in the yoga pose. “Now, how do I get out of this?”

With the assistance of Helene, she managed to unlock her legs. “Is this supposed to be good for you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.”

“I feel very sad for her daughter and her husband. I’m sure they loved her. I’m not going to miss her. Sorry! When I’m told to be honest, that I am.”

“So who planted the snake there?” Ivy moved up into the chair.

“Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps it should have been dropped off at Austin Zoo.” Helene said in an attempt to be funny. “I guess I don’t have much useful information, but feel free to call on me any time.”

The detective was getting ready to leave when the front door opened, and Gary Kent walked in. Without a word, he promptly headed for the kitchen carrying two heavy grocery bags that were killing his hands, judging from the pain in his eyes. With renewed energy after setting the bags down, he came back through the doorway to join the two women.

Gary reached out his hand to introduce himself to the fascinating woman with burning red hair. “I’m Gary.”

“Gary Kent? I was on my way to your house next, but now we can do it here instead.”

A totally perplexed look painted Gary’s face. “We can do what here?”

Helene didn’t offer any help, just wondered why her boyfriend acted so strange.

“I’m Detective Kim. I need to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Mrs. Foster.”

“Detective? They certainly have changed over the years. I’m sorry! I just thought I had seen you before. Sure, you can ask me questions.”

They returned to the comfy chairs and the purple yoga mat. This time, Ivy accepted a cup of coffee but not the mat. Gary got himself a beer and sat next to Helene on the couch.

“I don’t have much nice to say about my neighbor. She’s been a pain in the neck; but I must say, it’s a pretty dramatic way to teach her a lesson.”

“Why didn’t you get along?” Ivy sipped her coffee.

It wasn’t easy for Gary to talk about it without getting too emotional; it was important that he control himself. “The woman doesn’t approve of Helene’s and mine relationship. She constantly complains about me to the HOA.”

“About what?”

“My dogs. All she cares about is her daughter being an honor student. Who cares about an honor student when you have a Great Dane? I rescue dogs…She kills them!” It felt like his lungs were about to collapse. “She poisoned Big Rosa!”

“Big Rosa?”

“My Great Dane.”

“So she deserved a poisonous snake?”

Gary looked down. His heart was galloping. “What do you think, detective? Do you like dogs?”

“I love dogs. I have a turtle.”

“Do you want a dog? I have a beautiful stray dog that needs a home.”

Ivy almost jumped in her chair. “I know where we’ve met! The Japanese masseuse!”

The detective could almost feel her face burn with excitement. What was the link to this Japanese masseuse? “You arrived as my colleague and I were leaving. You asked me about your stray dog.”

She could hardly wait to follow up with her questions. “Is Miss Ding a good massage therapist? Does she make you stronger? Does she enable you to do things? Does she take your pain away?” It was almost impossible for her to stop her stream of words.

Gary leaned back as had he been caught in the stream of a jet engine. Feeling the pressure, he searched his mind for the right answers.

“Detective, I honestly don’t know. It’s so painful every time I’m there, I don’t know why I keep going back.”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 32

   

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Valerie Tyson (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

Tiffany Kammer (Cile Cook’s friend)

     

Lou Tayler (Doctor, Seton Hospital)

Cile Cook (Model, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Chad Randlett (Coroner, Austin Police Department)

     

Maury Lane (Forensic investigator, Austin Police Department)

Craig Alan Mooney (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband)

Leonard D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

     

Arturo (Cile Cook’s dog)

Derick James (Police officer, Austin Police Department)

Scott Miller (Captain, Austin Police Department)

     

Marianne Bondebjerg (Karsten Blok’s girlfriend)

Lilly Olesen (Karsten Blok’s ex-mother-in-law)

Karsten Blok (Boy Scout leader)

CHAPTER 32

A dog’s barking shattered the relative quiet of the coffee room. Not exactly a sound expected in a hospital. Ivy reached for the cell phone in her pocket.

“Ivy, this is Valerie. I wanted you to know that I have called the crime lab. Get over here as soon as possible. You won’t believe it.”

The tiny cell phone was almost hermetically pressed against Ivy’s ear to avoid their conversation revealing anything to the other person with her. Ivy was sitting on a chair in the coffee room opposite Tiffany Kammer.

As Doctor Taylor had mentioned, the young woman seemed spaced out or in some stage of shock. Her face was pale, almost white, and she kept staring away as if not recognizing the detective was present.

Ivy excused herself and walked to the windows at the other side of the room. Lowering her voice she said, “When will the crime lab be there?”

“They’re here already.”

“Okay, go ahead. Tell me about it.”

“Ivy, this is not an accident. Someone did this on purpose. The stuff the poor girl smeared all over her face was some kind of acid. I tell you, no face mask, not even if it’s expired, would do this. I have spent far too much time with forensics not to know. You should see the bathroom. It looks like some kind of research laboratory. There’s blood, skin, and this brown, nasty stuff all over.”

“Are Chad or Maury there?” The detective always felt so much better when they were on the case. They made such a great team.

“Yep, Chad is right here. He was called in, just in case any human remains would show up. He agrees this isn’t an accident, but they will need to do some tests.”

“What kind of face mask is it? We need to call the manufacturer.”

“I already did. It’s a promotional package from Cando Cosmetics. They haven’t received complaints from anybody else, but obviously they are going to double check everything right now to make sure they didn’t make any mistakes. The lady from Customer Service that I talked to practically freaked out and instantly transferred me directly to the CEO and Chairman. I guess, next time I have a complaint, I’ll just tell the customer service rep that it feels like acid. Can you just imagine what a mistake like this on their part would mean?”

“Sure can! This company’s customer service reps probably need to carry guns after this incident. Cando beauty products are definitely no longer on my wish list.”

She didn’t exactly spend a lot of time in front of the mirror. Her ex had on several occasions pointed out how nice it would be if she now and then spent a little time on her clothing and makeup. Showing up at his boss’s cocktail party dressed in blue jeans and a pink T-shirt hadn’t exactly endeared her to anyone there.

Unfortunately, the people badmouthing her because of this unfortunate incident altogether lacked a small piece of information: that she at the last minute had been called out to a homicide and then had come to the party. These were the same people who complained about the increasing violence in town. I just don’t understand those people.

”You know something, Ivy? The funny thing is that this promotional campaign didn’t include Miss Cook’s neighborhood. We need to figure out where she got this package from.”

“She told me. Somebody left it for her at D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. She’s a model.”

Valerie didn’t believe her own ears. “You’re kidding me! The guy who was slashed into pieces?”

“Yep, the very same one!”

The detective glanced at Miss Kammer, who still seemed to be in a different world.

“Find out what neighborhoods were included in this campaign. Anything else of interest?”

“Not really. The usual fingerprints, photos, etc. Besides the bathroom, everything seems to be untouched; and no indications that somebody else might have been here. The bed was nicely made. Dishwasher clean…oh, and her English bulldog had slept in a corner. Dressed in a tutu.”

“A tutu. Do they make them for turtles?”

“Oh, something else while I remember it,” Valerie continued. “You probably don’t wanna hear this. Derick called me. By the way, he’s doing okay. Miller wants him to take some vacation, but he won’t.” She paused. “Marianne Bondebjerg and Lilly Olesen have dropped their charges against Karsten Blok.“

The detective felt as if a cold gust chilled her body. “Bad joke! It isn’t April Fool’s Day. The freaking SWAT team came out. They’re not some kind of entertainment team you call when you feel like it.”

“I know! Only makes it worse, right?”

“Why did they do it?”

“They stated it had been one big misunderstanding. Blok had been drunk, overworked, and was totally out of character. He hadn’t really threatened them, and it was their mistake calling 911. He’s already been released.”

“He must have some damn good attorney.”

Like a confused mouse in a bucket, Ivy began to circle around in the small coffee room. It doesn’t make sense. If it were true that he was a pedophile and his ex-mother-in-law knew about it, then why would she let him go? And his girlfriend. Why? Did she know it, too?

“Are you there?” Valerie was following her colleagues as they checked every inch of Cile Cook’s condo.

“Do you know the difference between genius and stupidity?” Ivy stopped her pointless stride.

“Not sure…”

“Genius has its limits!” Ivy hung up. Waiting a few moments to give the newly gained information time to sink in, she then turned around to face Tiffany. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, you mentioned the high-school reunion.”

It appeared that Tiffany had regained some of her natural blush in her cheeks, and Ivy could tell that while she had been on the phone, the young woman had been crying.

“She was so pretty.” Tiffany said, staring into space. “She was so pretty,” she repeated, “so perfect.” All of a sudden, she burst into a loud cry. “Oh dear God! What are we to do?” A shiver ran through her body, which immediately brought her back to the cruel reality. She dried her running nose with the back of her hand and made a sniffing sound.

“You said that you and Miss Cook had planned to spend the afternoon together and then later in the evening attend your high-school reunion. What time were you meeting?”

She could tell that Tiffany still was somewhat in shock even if she had recovered a little. Her earlier answers had been vague and, to some extent, didn’t make sense.

“Well, we were to meet…meet at Cile’s place…We agreed to meet at…I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to remember. We talked about having breakfast, but then I’m not sure about that either. I know I originally had a massage scheduled for 2 that afternoon; but I had that changed, and instead I had one last Friday…”

“A massage?”

“Yeah! I have this wonderful Japanese massage therapist.”

The detective unintentionally spat out. “Jam-bam! You, too! What’s that therapist’s name?”

“Connie Ding.”

Ivy wrote the name down. What a coincidence. Or is it?

“Is she creepy?”

“Certainly not.” Tiffany had not expected that kind of question. “She’s…but I am so…I just seem to have forgotten…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Miss Kammer, why don’t you just start from when you woke up this morning and until this very moment while you and I are sitting here.” I might have to bring her down to the station and have Valerie interview her. That way we will also have her statement on tape. If only I had an extra recorder in my car.

“I’m sorry, Detective Kim. I don’t remember much. I woke up. I showered. I had a bagel with cream cheese…and strawberry jam.” She paused. “Then I had a chocolate yogurt and a cup of coffee with milk and sugar.”

“Whole milk?”

“Yes! I always take whole milk,” she said. “It just tastes better.”

You don’t remember anything about what you did, but your entire meal you remember to the smallest detail. “So what happened after the bagel and the cream cheese?”

“I brushed my teeth.”

“Good. We gotta take care of our teeth.”

“Yes, that’s important, and I have nice teeth.” She pulled her lips back so her teeth showed.

“Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“And after you had brushed your teeth, what did you do?” I hope she’s not having her period. I’m not in the mood to be lectured on the use of tampons.

“I left my apartment.”

“Good, now we’re getting somewhere,” she said, almost too excited. “So where did you go?

“I don’t remember.”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 28

   

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Victoria Mooney (Stepdaughter, Ivy Kim)

Craig Alan Mooney (Victoria Mooney’s father)

  

Beast (Turtle)

Kelly Turner Jones (engaged to Craig Alan Mooney)

CHAPTER 28

On Saturday night at nearly 7 o’clock, Detective Kim had been home for less than 15 minutes. She made a quick check around her small apartment before she dialed Victoria’s number.

“Happy birthday, Sweetie!”

“Mom, is that you?” Victoria’s voice still had its soft immature sound.

“Of course it’s me. Who did you think it was? Santa Claus? Wrong time of the year, Sweetie. Happy birthday, beautiful lady! I can’t believe my little girl is 15 today.”

Feelings of loneliness unexpectedly hit her, perhaps even a hint of self-pity. She walked to the window and looked at the busy world outside. Why on earth would I rent a place next to the freeway? It’s like an electric snake. Bumper to bumper.

“Come on, Mom, of course you can. The day you lent me your white leather jacket, you said I officially was a young woman. Remember?”

“Lent it to you? You sneaked out with it!” Ivy chuckled, realizing she hadn’t seen that jacket for a long time. I bet it is in New York! “I’m sorry I’m calling so late. It’s been a crazy day. One of my colleagues tried to…” She stopped. There was no point in sharing such bad news on her daughter’s birthday.

“Tried to do what?”

“Tried to catch a monkey that escaped from the Austin Zoo. He couldn’t, so I had to chase it.”

Victoria cackled. “And then the man with the yellow hat showed up…You’re such a bad liar.”

The apartment needed to be tidied up. The laundry basket, that still waited for its tour to the basement where the washer and dryer were, occupied the only comfortable chair in the small living room. Ivy moved the basket to the floor so she could sit.

“I sent you a check. I hope you can find something you like. I’m sorry. I’m not loaded with money like your dad. He…”

“It doesn’t matter, Mom!”

“I know, but your dad, he…”

“Mom! You’re doing it again.”

“Sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing, Mom.”

“Sorry, I’m not gonna do it again.”

“You just did.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Beast looked up from his cardboard box next to the upholstered club chair as if begging to be picked up.

Hey, you. Miss me? Ivy put him on the coffee table where he, at a snail’s pace, moved around like a misplaced prehistoric creature. With her index finger, the detective petted the small turtle on its head.

“Beast is here, too. He’s sending you happy birthday wishes.”

“Beast?”

“Yeah, the too-cute-not-to-have pet you couldn’t bring with you to New York. Remember?”

“Oh…sure…I remember, Mom. Manhattan isn’t a place for a turtle. You know that, Mom. How is he?”

“Good. We’re getting really close.”

“There you go. I knew you would get along fine.”

“Absolutely. We’re getting married next month.”

Beast was about to snap a tiny piece of paper on the table when Ivy at the same moment put the tip of her finger near his mouth.

“Ouch!”

“What?”

“Beast bit me!”

“He bit you?”

“Yeah! Men! They are all the same.”

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay! What’re your plans for tonight? I wish you and I could spend it together. We could go to a movie, have dinner at Asti Trattoria, that Italian restaurant you like so much. And then we could dress you up and sneak you into Azucar, and dance salsa the entire night. I’m sure your dad will invite you on one of his fishing tours. My idea is so much better!”

“We’ll do that next time I’m in Austin, okay? I gotta run now. Dad and Kelly have dinner ready for me. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Sweetie. Have a wonderful evening with Dad. And…Kelly.”

The last word hung in the air, not being able to go either back or forth. Had it been part of a cartoon, it would have dropped to the floor.

An uncomfortable silence and an unspeakable, deep pain were the only things left when the phone’s buzzing tone left her alone on the line. Ivy rose from the chair. It was time for her birthday dinner.

The kitchen seemed so small that with every cooking venture, she dreaded she might suffocate. The walls were almost imposing on her. She wondered if they were alive, slowly moving closer to her, only in an absentminded moment to surprise and wrap her up like a used piece of gum. The tiny table and the stiff wooden chairs dated back to her years in college.

This apartment had never been the right choice; but it had conveniently been there, ready for her to move in, when she needed it. So long after the divorce, and still she was stumbling over unpacked boxes, reminding her that this was only to be a temporary home. Disappointed and sad, she lowered her tired body onto one of the wooden chairs.

She pushed away the cereal bowl from her breakfast and reached for the coffee mug. For 30 seconds or so she stared into the dark, cold liquid as if she could foretell the future.

“Shit!”

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 17

        

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

Craig and Victoria Mooney  (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and step-daughter)

Kelly Turner Jones  (Craig Mooney’s fiancee)

       

Cile Cook  (Model, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Tiffany Kammer  (Cile Cook’s friend)

Bee  (Homeless woman)

       

Kristy Chaviers  (Starbucks employee)

Leonardo D’Almagro  (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

David J. Hernandez  (Business partner, D’Almagro Fashions and Talents)

CHAPTER 17

 

Macy’s in Barton Creek Shopping Mall was busy like a railway station. The sale in the women’s department with promises of 50% savings had awakened the urge to spend in almost every woman born with a shopping gene. Including Detective Kim.

She had finally managed to escape from her duties for an hour or two to find the perfect birthday present for Victoria. Craig and Kelly were undoubtedly going to buy her a car, so she could start her driving lessons. She really wants a horse.

They had not even asked if she had plans to buy a car for Victoria. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I showed up with a car, too? Ivy couldn’t help but smile. She could easily picture Craig’s and Kelly’s faces when they opened the door to present Victoria with a car and saw another car parked next to it. I so wish I could do that! But that wasn’t the situation.

It wasn’t difficult for Ivy to imagine the comments from Victoria’s friends.

“Wow! A brand new sports car!”

“Your dad must be a millionaire.”

“Oh, is that gift card from your Mom? One week of free gasoline. Nice…”

Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll married an outrageously rich man and then buy Victoria a horse. She snorted at her own fairy tale.

Next to Ivy, two young women in their early twenties were working their way through a load of tank tops in all different colors and designs. They couldn’t help overhear her outburst. They looked up, each still holding onto several spring-sale bargains.

“Oh nothing,” Ivy said when they looked at her in wonder. “I do that now and then…Snort, I mean. It has absolutely nothing to do with your tank top search. I’m not in any way competing with you! I’m just trying to figure out where to buy a horse for my daughter’s birthday.” I can always pretend I can afford a horse. Ivy opened her wallet and showed them a picture of Victoria with her long, golden hair.

Both women looked at the photo and then back at Ivy with puzzled looks.

“Adopted! Pretty obvious, right? We don’t exactly look alike. I know!” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Normally it’s the other way around.”

The two young women now gave her blank stares.

“Americans adopt children from Korea. People from Korea do not adopt children from America,” the detective said. Duh! There are too many one-way streets in this world. Amen!!!

“And your daughter wants a horse?” one of the young women repeated. She was a Texas beauty, tall, with long, platinum-blonde hair and a model’s figure. “I doubt Macy’s has horses. They do have almost anything, but horses…?” She smiled and turned to her friend who was almost her complete opposite: short, auburn brown, and plump but still with a very pretty face. “What do you think, Tiff? A goat perhaps?”

Tiffany Kammer, who knew exactly what embarrassing episode her friend Cile Cook was referring to, didn’t answer. Instead, she took a step behind her friend to hide her blushing cheeks.

“I don’t think a goat will do. I’m talking about a horse for horseback riding. Not a pet.” Ivy smiled and began her own search through the tank tops.

“A pet-friend perhaps.” Cile winked at Tiffany.

“I really need to leave, Cile. I have an appointment.” It was obvious that Tiffany wasn’t enjoying the conversation.

“Oh darn. Really? I was just about to tell this lady about my practical joke.” Cile presented a proud smile.

Tiffany looked surprised that her friend would share that humiliating episode with a total stranger. “Your practical joke?” With a surprised and questioning expression, Tiffany looked at Cile, who didn’t respond.

“Sure. I love that story!” She dropped the tank tops she had in her hand to get ready to share her story. “In high school some of us organized a so-called charity drive for the benefit of ‘Lonely Tiffy’ to provide Tiffany with a true friend.” She nodded towards Tiffany. “You see, Ma’am, Tiff didn’t have many friends; and she comes from a, let’s say, low-income home where her mom and dad always have struggled to make ends meet.”

She searched for approval of her observations, but her friend looked away, embarrassed.

Ivy wasn’t sure what kind of story she was listening to but felt intrigued enough to stick around to hear more.

The young woman continued. “The new high school that was part of the new development plan for the county had been built right between the trailer park and the nice new homes the county planned to encourage more of.” Cile looked at her friend then Ivy. “Tiffany lived in the trailer park, and most of her high school friends lived on the other side. You see, Ma’am, Tiff has always been a good kid and an A student; but that didn’t help much when it came to making friends. Right, Tiff?” The young woman sent Tiffany a questioning look.

“On Tiffany’s birthday, our ‘benefit’ group showed up with a goat. A cute little mountain goat. With a red bow around its neck.” She giggled. “So what do you think? A goat? For a birthday gift? Gosh, I think that has been one of the most embarrassing moments in Tiff’s life. Am I right, Tiff?”

Tiffany reluctantly nodded.

“Almost the entire school was gathered around Tiff and the goat. Some found it a bad joke. I don’t know why. It was just fun! We didn’t wanna hurt anybody and definitely not the cute goat. Others were confused, surprised, or simply felt pity for her. But most of us organizers were laughing. So were you, right, Tiff?

Tiff was about to nod but didn’t. Again she looked away with tears in her eyes. Her friend didn’t notice.

“The principal took the goat into custody in his office. It was hilarious! We later learned it consumed several of the school’s important files.” She snorted and looked with excitement at Ivy. “Good ol’ Tiff knew her parents never would allow her to keep the goat when it was released after school, so she gave it to one of the students who lived on a small cattle ranch.”

Cile looked proud after having finished her story.

“A goat?” Now it was the detective’s turn to be surprised.

“Well, yeah…just a practical joke thing. Good luck with your horse hunt.”

She turned away, chuckling. Together with hundreds of other women, the two young women moved further into the clothing sale.

Ivy followed the odd pair as they were about to disappear into the swarm of people, wondering what had brought those two very different women together. She noticed that the taller young woman continued to be amused after her recap of this scene from her friend’s life.

“Hah, a horse! I think my idea with the goat was better, for sure. Don’t you?” Cile was waiting for Tiffany’s agreement.

“Your idea?” Tiffany repeated. “Was it your idea with the goat, Cile?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.” She examined her friend’s face with disbelief in her eyes. “What! All this time, and you didn’t know?” She cackled.

The detective’s view was temporarily obscured when a group of three young men passed the girls, all the while giving Cile hungry looks.

Tiffany had seen those looks a million times. Guys would always do that, and she knew that Cile looked even more astonishing next to her. She trailed along after the woman she always had thought of as a friend.

With the crowd closing in, Ivy lost sight of the women and determined, I need some help with the birthday present, a defeat she hated to admit. She just couldn’t spend the whole day searching for the perfect gift. She felt very fortunate having a cell phone. She had no recollection of what the days had been like before the invention of this key communication device.

“Victoria! It’s Mom. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom. You know something? Can I call you back? I’m about to start tennis practice, and coach is already waiting for me.” She sounded well, her crisp and happy voice sparkling through the line.

Would it always hurt whenever she had something more important to do than talk to her mom? “Sure, Sweetie, I just have one quick question. What would you like for your birthday?”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“How about a red tank top?” She was staring at a red tank top she held pinched between two fingers.

“I already have a red tank top.”

“Well, how about a blue one?”

“Mom! I have fifteen tank tops, and I really have to go now.”

“Cash? Would you like cash? That way you can buy whatever you like.”

“Sure, Mom, cash would be nice. I gotta run. Love you!”

The conversation was over all too soon. Why am I always behind? she tortured herself. With an unpleasant feeling of being a bad mother, she maneuvered through the crowd of shoppers till she was back in the parking lot.

Not having to deal with the birthday present problem anymore, Ivy could do what she originally had planned. Earlier this morning, she had called D’Almagro’s receptionist and requested a meeting with her. Now will be as good a time as any other, she told herself.

 

***

 

Ivy took Mopac Expressway from Barton Creek Mall to get to the office of D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. She had another hour before the receptionist would lock the doors. During the day, that would be plenty of time. However, around four, traffic would pick up, and the short ride could easily require double the time.

I really need a strong cup of coffee. The receptionist will just have to wait for me.

A parking spot became available as Ivy arrived at Starbucks on Congress Avenue; a plus—the store was close to the D’Almagro Agency. Despite the place being full of customers, it wouldn’t take long to get her coffee.

In the parking spot in front of Ivy, a red Mini Cooper with a white roof was parked. A young girl walked up, unlocked it, jumped in, and started the trendy car.

Ivy stood for a moment to watch her quick departure. Too soon, Victoria would turn 15, and Ivy would not even be there to bestow her gift. She had asked Victoria if she wanted her to be in New York for her dad and Kelly’s engagement party or if she wanted her there for her own birthday party. She had chosen her dad’s engagement party. I know she did it for him. She’s always so thoughtful. I really can’t get more days off. I feel so bad about that.

“Why do you look so sad?”

Ivy turned around and faced her homeless friend Bee.

“Jam-bam, Bee! Is that you? I haven’t seen you for a while.” She gave Bee a friendly pat on her arm. “I’m not sad. I’m just thinking.”

“In that case, don’t think too much!”

Nobody knew Bee’s last name, but they knew she was the happiest homeless woman they had ever met. It was uncertain where she came from, what kind of past she had, even her age. What people knew was that she had an accent and made her living by telling stories.

The morning sun struck coppery sparks from Bee’s shoulder-length gold hair; it needed a wash and trim. However, her clothing looked nice and clean even it was pretty worn. Jeans, a loose brown blouse, and jogging shoes.

“Want a cup of coffee?” Ivy hoped she would accept her offer. Bee knew what was going on in the city if anybody did. She always had stories for kids as well as grownups. “Life is the story you create for yourself,” she would say, “so you better make it a good one!”

Bee nodded, pleased with the thought of a nice cup of coffee. It wasn’t every day she was offered such an expensive beverage. She tagged along with her small backpack over her shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Ivy wanted to know. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been on vacation,” she replied with a contented smile. “It was about time.”

“Vacation?” Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Where did you go?”

“360 and 2222.” Bee was referring to a highway overpass in Northwest Austin. “I got new shoes, too.” She proudly showed her new jogging shoes. “They’re a little tight, but they will be fine.”

“I like white sneakers.” Ivy pointed to her own white running shoes, indicating they had something in common.

“I prefer brown or black. You don’t see the dirt.”

They entered the café, lined up, and waited for their turn at the counter. Bee put down her backpack on the floor, then felt her sore shoulder.

“Heavy?”

Bee nodded. “Some days it’s heavier than other days. It depends what I put in it. What did you put in your backpack today? It looks heavy, too.”

“I don’t have a…oh…” She shrugged. “It’s a little heavy these days.”

“Have you checked it recently? Sometimes, I forget to check my backpack. When I do, I often realize I have been carrying around some heavy, stupid things for the longest time that I don’t even want.” She felt the weight of her backpack, lifting it with one hand. “I think mine is okay.”

The two women were next in line.

A young woman in her early twenties wearing a cap with the shade to the back and sunglasses was ready for their orders.

“Double tall latte with non-fat milk,” Bee rubbed her hands together in expectation of her hot drink.

“Absolutely, Bee,” the young girl behind the counter said and pushed a cookie across the counter to Bee. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks, Kristy! You’re always so kind.”

“And for you, Ivy? The usual?”

“Yes, please! Black coffee. Grande.”

Kristy Chaviers was aware of who the two women were. Both were known for their stories, and yet they were so different. “I read in the paper that you’re on the D’Almagro case. What a story!”

“Yep, I’m the lucky winner of that problem.” Ivy replied and felt the weight of her personal backpack.

The two women sat at a small, round table. Bee sat quietly for a moment, both hands on the cup, smelling the coffee. She closed her eyes and smiled.

“Are you hungry?”

Bee opened her eyes and smiled even wider. “You are the sweetest thing, Detective. Thank you, but I just had some fries from MacDonald’s, some drumsticks from KFC, and an apple from somewhere. Plus this cookie from Kristy. People have been so nice today. Coffee and this cookie is good. And your nice company.” She broke the cookie into two pieces and pushed half over the table to Ivy. “I saw D’Almagro the other night.” She paused. “And what’s-his-name, his business partner.”

“Hernandez?”

“Yes, him. They came out from The Rain Bar…well, D’Almagro came out with some guy, and Hernandez showed up but left again without talking to anybody. Strange behavior.”

“What exactly did you see?” Ivy set down her coffee cup and munched her half-cookie.

“Well, Mr. D and another guy came out. Dark hair, slim, young. Hard to tell from the distance. The guy left in his car, and Mr. D started walking. Mr. H showed up, walked towards the club, stopped when he saw them leaving, looked at Mr. D, then turned around and left.”

“Strange.”

“That’s what I told you!”

“And then what?”

Bee sipped the hot coffee. “I don’t know. I left. I had an appointment with my attorney.”

Ivy sent her an acknowledging beam of a smile. “Thanks! Let me know if you hear anything. Where do you live these days?” Ivy stood ready to leave.

“Here and there. Don’t worry. I’ll find you!

The Japanese Masseuse – Chapter 5

        

Ivy Kim (Detective, Austin Police Department)

David and Amy Brosette (Married)

Abby Brosette (Daughter)

         

Craig Alan and Victoria Mooney (Ivy Kim’s ex-husband and her step-daughter)

Kelly Turner Jones (Craig Mooney’s fiancée)

Peter Tung (Forensic photographer)

       

Chad Randlett (Coroner, Austin Police Department)

Leonardo D’Almagro (CEO, D’Almagro Fashion and Talents)

Waltraud Contratto (Housekeeper, Leonardo D’Almagro)

CHAPTER 5

It was close to eight in the evening, and the sun was still up in the cobalt-blue sky. The imposing, wrought-iron gates gradually unfolded in an almost intimidating way. Only people trusted with the right access code were allowed to enter this exclusive neighborhood of West Rim Estates. A solid front door, a private security system, and a personal handgun were simply not considered enough protection from the outside world.

A silver-gray Honda Civic driven by an impatient young woman speeded up as it crossed the border between West Rim Estates and the outside world. Ivy Kim was a striking woman with distinct Korean features. Her deep, brown eyes swiftly scanned the fashionable neighborhood.

Only a few minutes earlier on West Lake Drive, she had passed a man on a bicycle pulling a cart loaded with groceries. His only attire had been a thong. Austin truly lives in harmony with diversity. A smile flitted over her face.

Farther down the street, she spotted a group of people gathered outside a home. This must be it, she concluded and stepped on the gas pedal.

She parked the car across the street from the huge and very expensive home. That anyone could afford to live in such a house was a puzzle to her. This gated community consisted of 35 homes. Not one of them was smaller than 4,000 square feet, and most were closer to 6,000.

For a brief moment Miss Kim took in the beauty of the home she was about to visit. The brilliantly landscaped front yard was as if designed right out of Architecture. Not one single straw of grass seemed to be going against the well-laid-out lawn. Colorful flowers decorated the beds, and the sprinklers were on to ensure the plants got enough water in the extreme Texas heat.

Cars, mostly belonging to people from the police department and SCI, were lined up outside the house. Neighbors had rapidly been gathering as the bad news had spread.

Greeted by a police officer, Ivy was let in behind the yellow band, which in a simple way kept the curious crowd outside the scene of crime. It was the second time in less than four weeks that police had been called out to this particular neighborhood.

They still hadn’t solved the first case, a white woman run over by a car. Not an accident, that was for sure. Hitting a pedestrian five times could under no circumstances be characterized as an accident, she thought, but that was, of course, still to be proven.

No matter how charitable she considered herself, Mrs. Brosette had been known to be somewhat snooty, not treating anybody below her social status with any true kindness or respect. Regularly, she would have illegal immigrants working in her yard, repairing her residence, and cleaning her home. She even had people walk Dexter, a pure-breed Boxer she reluctantly had invited into her home. Her daughter Abby had been pleading for a puppy, and being an honor student had called for some kind of reward.

Some people said Mrs. Brosette treated dogs better than her employees. The truth of the matter was she didn’t treat anybody with respect and she hated dogs.

The entire neighborhood had buzzed like a disrupted beehive. Was it one of the illegal immigrants who had ended the life of this displeasing female? Was it her fed-up husband? Or simply a mad dog?

“That must be Ivy Kim!” a man from the snooping crowd said and pointed at her.

“Wow! Look at that hair color,” a woman uttered. “It’s bright red!” Detective Kim was easily recognized because of her distinctive hair color, something that changed regularly.

The murmur from the spectators was intensifying. Some of them held up their cell phones to snap pictures of the renowned detective.

Some day I’ll get a new face and a regular meatloaf hair color. Kim quickly checked if anyone in particular stood out from the gawking crowd. Amazing how bulky people’s eyes get when they are curious. I wish they could see themselves.

Being successful was nice, but it definitely had its price. Last year, when she once again had been triumphant in solving a murder case, she had in the news been referred to as a remarkable and very unusual woman. She loved her job, even if it often meant late hours that, to an extent, had destroyed her personal life. After eight years of marriage to Craig Mooney, she was now alone and was in many ways married to her job.

Even her stepdaughter Victoria had chosen to live with her dad in New York. Victoria knew that it was her only option if she wanted a normal family life. Only two years old, Victoria had lost her biological mother to breast cancer, so she and Craig had been the family until Ivy had been introduced.

Children hadn’t really been part of Ivy’s plans, but Victoria had been part of the package, and Ivy had loved her new role as Victoria’s mom. The age difference between the two wasn’t great, and they had soon built a close relationship. Ivy had secretly cried the day Victoria had asked her permission to call her Mom.

She missed having Victoria and Craig around. She and Craig were still friends; but after he had started dating Kelly Jones, things had changed. Kelly was very young; however, she was sweet and took good care of Victoria, and that was the most important part.

Victoria was turning 15 on Saturday, and Ivy had still not figured out what to surprise her with. Her daughter wanted a horse, but there was no way she could afford that on her salary.

Approaching the front door, the detective overheard a conversation between two middle-aged women.

“It’s cute, but I don’t know about that color,” one of the women stated.

Cute, Ivy noted. That wasn’t exactly the look she wanted associated with her hairstyle. It’s okay. You don’t have to call me beautiful, but cute? Please. She swiftly checked her outfit, which wasn’t glamorous and definitely not cute. Jeans and a simple T-shirt, partly covered by a hip-length leather jacket. It was practical, and so was her hair. She had never been one to spend hours on her appearance.

The front door was wide open, and there was a gaggle of spectators in the home. A photographer walked around sending out flashes of bright light for each picture he snapped. Great. They have done it again. They have sent an army of police officers, all too excited to be of any real help, stepping on each other’s toes and mucking up evidence traces.

There was no doubt that the crime had taken place in the formal living room, leaving it as an abandoned battlefield.

“Jam-bam! What the heck happened here?” The detective looked at the blood-splattered walls. Her nostrils caught the distinct stench of death. “Another butcher is loose?”

The photographer stopped taking pictures. “Well, if it isn’t the famous investigator! Stop! Right there!” He snapped a picture.

“Stop that, Peter. You know I don’t like to see my face between pictures of dead people.”

Peter Tung and the detective had worked together for the last two years. He was a witty guy with a positive attitude who found it amusing to tease his colleagues. Peter returned to his duty.

“Hi, Ivy! You? What a pleasant surprise.” The coroner who had been bending over what appeared to be a corpse sent her a sincere smile. Chad Randlett scratched his dark brown beard while he again looked at the corpse. His masculine-cut face on a well-sculpted skull was perfectly proportioned, like the dot above the i, the whole placed on top of a tall well-trained body.

“How’ve you been?” His eyes sparkled like gemstones.

“Good, and yourself, Doctor Chad?” she teased. He’s always so happy. Happiness right in the middle of murder and sadness. She returned his smile.

“We missed you, Ivy.” He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair. “I was told that you were out of town. We needed you on the last case here in West Rim. You know. That woman who got hit by a car. Actually several times. You should have seen her. Tire tracks all over her body. Nice and clear. And her face…Not nice, not nice…Somebody didn’t like her!”

“So, who didn’t like her?”

“The husband got locked up. They found him in the car, but he claims he doesn’t remember a thing. He sat there with both hands on the steering wheel, staring into space as if in some kind of hypnotic trance.”

“Glad I wasn’t here! It’s so damn hard getting anywhere with people who suffer from amnesia. I was on vacation and a very much overdue one,” she pointed out.

“Vacation?”

“Kind of. I was invited to my ex’s engagement party in New York.”

“Do people still believe in marriage?” Chad asked and looked as if he checked his own answer to that question.

“I guess so.”

“Well, it sounds like you weren’t that bad of an experience since your ex decided to do it again.” Chad’s sparkling blue eyes sent her a wink.

“Thanks. Never looked at it that way. Perhaps there’s still hope for me.”

“Absolutely. Didn’t you see the line outside? They’ve all taken a number.”

“Great. I could use some male influence in my life,” she said and looked curiously around the room. “Nasty!”

“The engagement party?

“No. The party was glamorous, not like the one Craig and I had. Lots of people with lots of money. I believe I was the only one with a normal life and a simple income. Well, they paid for everything. Who would turn down a week’s stay in New York, even when it’s your ex-husband getting engaged?”

Dr. Randlett, who was busy checking bloodstains on a black leather couch, flashed a stunned face in the detective’s direction. “What? Could you repeat that? A simple income perhaps, but come on. A normal life? Just look at this chaos in front of you. Tell me this is normal!”

Ivy edged closer, watching her step since the floor represented more potential evidence than she had seen in a long time.  “You’re right! You should have heard the questions I was asked at the party. They really made me feel like a loony—Don’t you get sick when you see all that blood, Detective? How many dead people have you seen? What is the worst murder you have investigated?” She paused, then shook her head. “I tell you, Chad, they want blood! Lots of blood. As long as it isn’t their own. But you know something? I love my job!”

With a nod, Chad acknowledged her statement.

“Now, what do we have here?” The young woman bent down to look at what once was a living human being. It was hard to tell the body parts from each other.

The way the body lay reminded her of her first murder case years back. She had been sick and vomited right there on top of the corpse, and next she had cried hysterically for the longest time. Nobody, least of all she herself, had thought she would end up as one of the toughest investigators in Texas.

“Poor guy. He’s chopped up like ground beef.” For a brief moment she felt nauseous.

Chad rubbed his beard a few times with the back of his gloved hand. “Male, somewhere between thirty 35 and 45. Stabbed…or rather slashed to death with at least 15 wounds. Been dead no more than three hours. A mess! The perpetrator must have been pretty determined to end this guy’s life.”

“Whoever did this must be soaked in blood.” Ivy searched around. “So how come no bloody footprints?”

“You tell me. What I can tell you is that the first cut must have decapitated him.”

“I see that! Pretty upsetting.”

The coroner turned over the corpse to reveal several deep, bloody cuts on its back.

Ivy looked as if she had eaten something she didn’t like. “I’ll never understand how people can do a thing like that. How can you plan such a scenario and then follow through with it? Any normal human being would get sick to their stomach just imagining it.”

“The killer apparently didn’t. He didn’t even fear someone would show up and surprise him. He took the time to shower after the assault.” Chad turned the body back over again.

The eyes were still wide open, and Ivy uncomfortably felt they were looking at her. “It must have been cold water.”

“Sure, the best way to get rid of blood,” Chad confirmed as the expert who constantly dealt with bodily fluids. “We haven’t found any blood-splattered clothes. If he changed, then it looks like he took everything with him. It all seems too well-organized to me.”

“We’ll do a search in the area…” She paused. “Him? Any indications that the perp’s a he?”

“Nothing conclusive, but you gotta be pretty strong or very skilled to butcher a person the way this was done.” Chad pointed to the body on the floor. “Go ahead. Have a look for yourself.” The coroner had already done his initial exam. He was good at it. Many years in his profession had taught him what to look for.

“Who found him?”

“The housekeeper, Mrs. Contratto. She’s waiting in the kitchen. Very upset. She might need a doctor to prescribe her something calming.” Chad was aware of Ivy’s lack of patience when it came to interviewing upset people.

“And the murder weapon?”

“Right there next to the body.” He pointed to a long and rather unusual dagger.

Ivy looked it over, frowned, wrinkling her forehead in a funny way. “It looks old and foreign. Asian perhaps. Was the owner of the house a collector?” She looked around in search of similar items but found nothing except contemporary furniture and art.

“Yes, he collected money,” Chad said flatly, his broad grin giving away his opinion of his own cleverness.

“Do we know who he is?” She moved from side to side to get a better look at the man on the floor, which was just about impossible with all the blood and the awkward way he was situated. “He looks awful.”

“Well, he hasn’t been identified for certain yet, but we believe it’s the owner of this mansion. Mr. Leonardo D’Almagro. The owner of D’Almagro Fashion and Talents. Design, fashion, models, actors. Lot of money. You know how that works.”

“No, I don’t!” she snapped, unpleasantly having her memory jogged regarding her current slow cash flow. “I wish I knew what it felt like.”

“Oh, that’s true. I forgot,” he chuckled. “You know…if you spend a few more minutes in front of the mirror before you leave your home in the morning, you’ll have a pretty good chance of getting a moneymaker on the hook. You’re a pretty good catch, Ivy; don’t pretend you don’t know that.”

Chad flashed a huge boyish smile in an attempt to cover his own attraction for her. More than once she had been part of his dreams. His eyes followed her, and they enjoyed what they saw. She looked younger than her age, sporty and well-trained.

“Sure, I know D’Almagro Fashion and Talents,” she continued, ignoring his suggestions for introducing a more careful makeup procedure, something her ex-husband in vain had suggested more than once. “Married?”

“No, gay.”

“How do you know?” she asked, looking straight in Chad’s direction. “And for your record, gay people do get married, too.”

“I guess. Still find it awkward, though, but okay.”

“Of course it’s okay! It’s love. If love can’t make this world a better place, what can?”

“I’m all for love. I’ll support you in that any time.”

Ivy noticed his flickering eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The heavy stench from the body fluid had started to bother her more, and she unconsciously squeezed her nose. What would we do without air conditioners? I can just imagine the impact the 90-degree heat outside would have on a crime scene like this.

“So how do you know he’s gay?”

“Everybody knows,” Chad answered.

“Wrong!”

“Okay then. Let’s say I found him in the closet, and he jumped out with a big cardboard sign.”

“Not funny!” she continued. “A partner? Lover?” She bent down to examine the gory dagger. She pulled a pair of latex gloves from her pocket and a clean napkin. Slipping the gloves on, carefully she picked the weapon up with the napkin, turned it a few times to examine it.

“None of my bags will fit that bastard,” she sputtered.

Immediately, a young police officer who silently had been going through some drawers handed her a bigger paper bag.

“Lover.”

“What did you call me?” She had already forgotten her own question.

Chad shook his head and smiled. His eyes were big and brown like a loyal Golden Retriever’s.

“He had a lover. According to the grapevine, he enjoyed every bit of his life and never made any commitment to anybody. Except once to a woman. So he was married once…but he didn’t marry again…even I do know that gay people marry, too.” A slight trembling of his lips told her he was about to laugh.

“He was known to be a regular at The Rain Bar downtown. It’s not that I care much about rumors, but my next-door neighbor happens to think it’s her job to put her nose in everything and most of all to inform everybody of her findings. I’m sure you can learn more at the club about his whereabouts.”

“I’m sure I’ll fit right into the crowd without being recognized as a woman with a new hairstyle,” she taunted, hoping to avoid any more comments by bringing it up herself.

“I like it. It’s cute.” Chad said and awaited his reward for his compliment.

“Cute? Of all things! Why do people think I look cute?” she almost yelled.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, sure you can fit in…if it wasn’t for your…well, you know…your…boobs.”

Ivy returned the dagger to its original spot and stood, showing a proud, slim body. She gave a hollow laugh, and their conversation suddenly got attention from everybody in hearing distance, which was almost the entire investigation team.

“My boobs? Did I hear you right, Chad? Did you really mention my boobs? Oh my, that is so funny! I’m all worried that my hairdo won’t fit in, and you’re all concerned about my boobs.”

She turned and called out, addressing everybody around her who all happened to be males, “Hey, guys! Is that true that nobody will be noticing my hair in The Rain Bar, but will only be looking at my boobs?”

An almost girlish giggling shimmered around the room, followed by a few statements.

“Yep, only boobs.”

“First boobs, then hairdo.”

“Always boobs!”

“Fine! You’re all the same! Men! When will you ever change?” She shook her head, not knowing why she was reacting so strongly. “I need to talk this housekeeper. What’s her name again?”

“Mrs. Waltraud Contratto,” Peter Tung replied and looked proud that he actually remembered her name.

“What kind of name is that? How do you even spell it?” Ivy was about to write down the name in her small notebook but decided to wait so the housekeeper could spell it for her.

“Boobs!” she snapped and headed towards the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to upset you!” Chad called right before she opened the door. “You know, it doesn’t matter how hard you try. You’ll never be taken for a man.”

“Apology accepted,” Ivy muttered before she closed the kitchen door behind her.