Page 55 of The Business Trip

OK, Jasmine, what have you forgotten?I picked up her phone, and the password let me right in and I started looking throughher texts. Who did she converse with? There was a chain with her son, Evan; a chain with what maybe was a sister named Renee who called her “Little”; a chain with someone named Robert; and a chain with someone named Bruce. Those were all at the top, the most recent. Based on the conversations, I surmised that Bruce was a coworker and Robert a friend, maybe a neighbor. My plan was to try and buy time with all of them until I could get the money that I needed. Make sure they weren’t suspicious.

It was only Wednesday night now, so I knew I had some wiggle room. If I faked being her at the conference tomorrow and then spent Friday dealing with bank stuff, it seemed that it would all work out perfectly. I would find some excuse to extend her trip via text with friends and family and then just stop texting at some point and ditch the phone. They would never know. They would think she just disappeared into the night and would never find her.

As for the body… my eyes flitted back to the bed… I had to get moving. I needed to fold her limbs into the giant suitcase before rigor mortis overtook her, and then I had to wait. I couldn’t take her out of here now—the same desk clerk would be on duty, and it would be weird for me to leave with the giant suitcase so soon after checking in.

No, I would have to do that in a different shift, and I had a plan. This close to the ocean, there had to be out-of-the-way spots to dump a body in the water. I would need weights, of course, so that she didn’t float to the top. I bit my fingernails and thought. I should have gotten those at Walmart too. Damn it, my first misstep.

Then a thought thumped its way across my temples. I was in a hotel! There had to be a gym, the kind with lots of hand weights all lined up and ready for use. My eyes darted to Stephanie’s rolling suitcase. I could take that bag to the weight room at an off time, fill it with some weights, and wheel it back here, where I could put the weights in the big suitcase with her. My only concern was that the body not smell in the meantime. I could wheel it out during the day even, or the evening, after the conference tomorrow, but I couldn’t do it right now. I might need some ice to keep her cold. First, though, getting her into the suitcase.

Going to the bed, I started to pull her toward me. She was damn heavy. Not an overly large woman but heavy nonetheless. I grunted and groaned as I twisted her this way and that. Positioning the suitcase next to the bed, I let her drop into it with a thud, hoping it didn’t wake other hotel guests; then I folded her up into the smallest size I could make her, pushing her limbs. She just barely fit. Testing out closing the suitcase, I was thrilled that it worked. No one would have a clue if I rolled her out right through the lobby. But the smell? I went back to my phone and googled: It can happen within twenty-four hours. There must be an ice machine down the hall. Just to be safe, I could pile some ice around her, but not just on its own—that would melt and make the suitcase wet and gross. I needed some bags.

Looking around, I didn’t see an ice bucket, but in the closet there was one plastic bag clipped to a clothes hanger and labeledLAUNDRY. In the bathroom I saw a couple of hair ties. Those could help to keep the bag tight.

Taking the bag and slipping out of the room and down the hall, I peered around for the ice machine. But it was not on one end of the hallway, not by the elevator, and not on the other end of the hallway. What the heck? Every motel I had ever worked in had an ice machine and soda vending area. As I walked back to my room, it hit me. The few really fancyhotels I had been employed by never had them. You had to call housekeeping for ice. Damn. A miscalculation. What to do now? I guess I had twenty-four hours to figure it out before she really smelled.

When I returned to the room, it was almost 2:30 a.m., and I surmised the conference was starting in six or so hours. In order to be Stephanie, I would need to wear her clothes and act like a news director. I couldn’t start transferring any money or making any rash moves in the middle of the night. That would be suspicious. No, it had to look as if Stephanie herself had just decided to skip out on life after this conference. That would have to happen during the day.

Going to her closet, I surveyed her clothing, feeling the fabrics with my fingers. Most of my clothes came from Goodwill, but hers were clearly many notches up. A green shirt was so buttery to the touch that it felt almost magical; a pink blazer had a thickness to it that showed it was made well; a navy sweater looked and felt cozy. We were close enough in size that I wasn’t too worried about the fit but decided to try everything on anyway. I didn’t want to show up at the conference looking odd.

Stripping down to my underwear and bra, I started trying on each piece, turning this way and that and looking at myself in the mirror. The green shirt was just a bit too baggy for my liking. Her pants were roomy in the waist. Either I would be hiking them up all the time or I needed a belt, which I didn’t see. She had a cute little black dress, though, and that looked good on me. I loved the way the soft material felt on my skin and admired the flowiness of the skirt. Twirling in satisfaction, I grabbed the pink blazer and put it over the dress. Pretty. The blazer fit me well.

Now for shoes. I picked up a pair and looked at the size.Damn, she was one size larger than me. The tan-and-cream flats she had in the closet wouldn’t work then—they’d be falling off. My best bet was a sort of a high-heeled tennis shoe thing. I could wear two pairs of her socks inside those if need be. I went to the drawers of the dresser to hunt for socks, and that’s when I saw her pretty bras and underwear. Even her practical-looking underwear was nicer than anything I owned. She also had a bunch of Spanx in there and a multitude of sock options. I couldn’t help but try on a black lacy bra and a pair of bikini underwear. It felt so good to have nice clothes on. I decided to wear those the next day too, not my old ratty pair.

Next I moved to the bathroom and inspected her makeup and smelled her perfume. So nice, so well-made. The names on the sides of the makeup were brands I knew you couldn’t find at a drugstore. The perfume had an Italian-sounding name. Spritzing some on my wrist, I took a satisfying whiff. It was like a bouquet of flowers, very different from the patchouli I usually wore, but this was the new me now. I was going to be keeping this perfume, that was for sure.

Out of things to do and with several hours yet to go, I changed into her workout clothes, since her pajamas were still on her, then got into the king-size bed where Stephanie had just been but moved to the side away from where her body had lain. That was too creepy. I had a big role to play the next day, so I needed some sleep. Looking at her iPhone to see when she had her alarm set, I kept it that way and put her phone next to me on the nightstand. Finally, I clicked the TV off,The Golden Girlsflickering to darkness, and I shut my eyes.

CHAPTER 38Jasmine

One Day After the Flight

I wasn’t sure if I would sleep, but the next thing I knew the alarm was going off and sunlight was poking around the edges of the heavy curtains. Startled, I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

Where was I?

It all came flooding back.

Glancing over at the suitcase, I saw Stephanie’s body, still and curled into a fetal position. My stomach roiled. Somehow by the light of day things always seemed worse than in the middle of the night, the black magic of darkness gone.

Shit. I had killed this woman. Now I had tobeher. Quickly I got up and made coffee with the room coffee maker. There was a minibar stocked with alcohol and snacks, and a small placard listed the outrageous prices. Still, I was very hungry, and I didn’t want to risk room service, so I broke open some of the fancy cheese and ate that along with a chocolate bar, downing it all with coffee.

I took a shower and got dressed in her underwear and bra, the black dress with the pink blazer, and the funky shoes withtwo pairs of socks. Spraying the Italian perfume all over me, I put on her makeup and jewelry, took her robin’s-egg blue purse and returned her ID to her wallet, then added her phone and mine to the purse, plus the sheet of hotel stationery where I had put my notes about Stephanie’s life. I was ready.

Zipping the suitcase all the way, I put it into the corner of the room and plopped Stephanie’s suitcase on top of it, just in case, so that someone who entered wouldn’t see anything to suspect.

I knew from my days working at motels and hotels that housekeepers would be happy when there was a room they could skip, so I hung theDO NOT DISTURBsign on the exterior of the door handle.

Even though I had done everything I could think of, the elevator ride down had me filled with anxiety. I was heading into a strange place to pretend to be a woman I wasn’t, at a conference that had topics I knew nothing about. But I had to do this little charade for at least a day. It was part of my master plan. I would just be as quiet as I could and not draw attention to myself.

When I stepped off the elevator, there was a big sign that saidWELCOME TO THE NEWS COVERAGE SUMMIT. An idea hit me. Pulling Stephanie’s phone out, I snapped a picture, went to her Facebook page, and posted it with the caption “I’m in San Diego for a conference. Can’t wait to learn new things!” Within thirty seconds, the first like came in, and I smiled.

When I entered the ballroom, a young woman with short hair, a nose ring, and a name tag that saidWILLOWwas the first to speak to me.

“Good morning, can I help you find your name?”

“Yes… uh… Stephanie, Stephanie Monroe.” The words sounded so unfamiliar on my lips.

“Monroe… here you are. Your table assignment is on the corner of the tag. Looks like you’re table four. Can you sign in, please?” She handed me a pen.

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