Page 62 of The Business Trip

I was just thinking about how to do that and I picked up Stephanie’s phone to see if she had any messages. There was a text from that guy Robert. When I opened it, the first thing I saw was a picture of a cat in a chair licking its paw. The text read:

Hi Mama, I miss you. I’ll see you tomorrow! Love Freddie (and your favorite cat-sitter)

Aha, so Robert was the cat-sitter she had told me about. Now what was my chess move? As I was pondering this, a second text came in from him:

Opened your package. It’s bigger than I thought. Lots of options and settings. I thinkyou’ll love it. It will make you feel great. Would you like me to put it next to your bed?

What the heck did that mean? Did Steph order avibratorand ask her friend to bring it in? That was the only thing I could think of. How scandalous! A news director!

Nibbling my fingers, I lay in bed thinking. What would be a natural first thing to say to a friend to buy myself some extra time and to set up Trent, and what to say about the vibrator my cat-sitter had just opened? Sitting up, I started crafting a text, then read it over several times:

Thanks for the pic! So cute. Hey—I know this is super unexpected but I met an amazing guy at the conference and I’m actually going back to his place with him! Can you watch Fred for a little longer? I’ll be back in touch to let you know when I’m returning. Thank you so much! And regarding the package, go ahead and put it in the bedroom. Maybe I won’t need it anymore now that I met this guy, ha ha! Thanks.

That sounded good. I was acknowledging the picture of Fredandacknowledging the vibrator, plus setting up that I had met a guy and gaining some extra time. Taking a deep breath, I hit send.

The text back from him was almost instantaneous.

Girlfriend, you call me right now. I want every detail.

Clearly I wasn’t going to call him, but nibbling my nails more, I thought of the pluses and minuses of responding to him again via text. I didn’t want to give away too many details just yet, didn’t want to engage much. Ten minutes passed and he wrote again.

Don’t you dare ignore me when you have news like that!

I kept ignoring it and went to take a shower. When I got out, I had missed a call from him and there was another text.

You can’t drop a bomb on me and then ghost, uh-uh, ain’t fair. Who is this guy?? Is he cute? Is he a news director? Does he have a nice tush? At least tell me his name and where he’s from.

Jesus, Robert, lighten up, I thought as I toweled off and rifled through the rest of Stephanie’s clothing in her closet. Today I was going for the long flowery dress. I still needed to look like her for a few days so that I could get to Western Union today and get through security to Atlanta tomorrow.

Continuing to ignore Robert, I used Steph’s makeup and perfume, put on her watch again and her jewelry, wore her clothes, carried her purse, packed everything else into her rolling carry-oncarefully, stripped the bed as best I could to help the housekeeping staff, wiped down the bathroom for the same reason, and waited patiently until I knew the conference had started and everyone would be in the room hearing from speakers on topics that still confused me.

This was my time to slip out the side door again for a final time. I was never coming back here. I removed theDO NOT DISTURBsign from the outside handle and rehung it on the inside.

With all of Stephanie’s items, plus the few I had brought, in her bag, I rolled it down the hall to the staircase and walked down this time, the bag not heavy, getting to the lobby. Slipping out the side door, I went to the minivan and drove to Western Union a few miles away. After a short wait in line, I had only to present Stephanie’s photo ID and credit card and to know my password as an extra security measure, and I was handed $5,000 from each account, walking out with $15,000 in cash.

I wanted to be done with the minivan, so I took that back to the rental-car place and got an Uber back to my motel, asking the driver to stop for fast food so I could order some lunch. That way I didn’t need to go out again.

Shedding each part of the tools that got me to this point and advancing my plan felt great. Car gone, money here, dead body gone, evidence planted. I was doing well. Back at the motel, I counted all of my money: $18,000 from Steph’s accounts, plus some I still had from my job in Madison.

The bills looked great spread across the cheap, thin duvet of the motel bed. Eating tacos from Taco Bell, I thought about how I’d be enjoying real Mexican food soon. My eyes drifted to Steph’s phone. I noticed she had two more missed calls from Robert and remembered I had not returned his morning textsasking me for more information. It was probably time. Still acting like happy, in-love Stephanie, I wrote:

Hey! Sorry I didn’t get back to you. Really busy day here at the conference. He’s amazing. His name is Trent McCarthy and he’s from Atlanta. We really hit it off and I just need to roll with this. Can you give me a week? I’m going to go back to Atlanta with him. I’ll send you some pictures!

Pictures would be part of my paper trail for the police.

Well, aren’t you just the Queen of the Nile?! Of course I’ll take care of Fred. Have an amazing time and call me when Trent is out of earshot. I want to talk to you! Every. Single. Damn. Detail.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I picked up Steph’s phone and called United Airlines, asking to be on the same exact flight Trent was on. I still had it memorized from the paper in his hotel room.

“You’re lucky, just a couple of seats left,” she said. “That route fills fast.”

“I’ll take anything,” I responded. “My name is Stephanie Monroe, and I have my credit card right here.”

In no time at all, we had it booked. I leaned back in the bedand kicked my feet around in joy, stifling the urge to scream along with it. I was kicking ass and taking names.

The rest of the day and night I stayed in at the motel, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I had my money and had formulated my plan, but to be sure I didn’t make any missteps, I sketched it out on the motel paper using their pen. Both items felt cheaper in my hand than the versions at the hotel Stephanie had stayed at. There, the pen was heavy, the paper thick. It felt important when you were writing. Here, it was a Bic ballpoint that looked as if someone had chewed on the end of it, and it was missing its cap. The paper was of a thin, almost scratchy quality. Just another way the class system in America rewarded people like Stephanie, Trent, Allison, and Drake and cared little about people like me. The toilet paper was another example. It had been so soft and fluffy at the Hilton. Here I barely wanted to use it, it was so cheap.

Well, I would be jumping social classes soon, that was for sure. I tried to picture how people in Mexico would perceive me. I’d have nice clothes and jewelry and smell like Italian perfume. I smiled at the thought. It was my turn.

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