FORTY-TWO
WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE
“I don’t get it.” Aster squinted at the long brunette wig Ryan waved before them as though it were somehow significant.
“This proves Madison really was here!” he cried. “This is her wig!”
“How can you be so sure?” Tommy asked. “Considering Paul’s a PI, it could just as easily be his.”
Ryan continued to examine it. “Madison kept a collection of wigs. She used to create these elaborate disguises so she could move about anonymously. I’m pretty sure this is one from her collection. I remember her wearing it.”
“Did it work?” Layla asked. “Was she able to go unnoticed?”
“Usually.” He nodded. “She was a master at disguise. She’d create entire characters with elaborate backstories. She seemed to really enjoy it.”
“Kind of like how she created herself.” Layla wore a deeply contemplative expression.
“And why are you just now getting around to telling me this?” Aster took the wig from Ryan and plucked at the seams lining the scalp as she studied it from all sides.
“I guess it didn’t seem relevant until now. Anyway, I found this sitting on that chair over there.”
Tommy studied the hideous vinyl recliner and frowned. Since Paul worked with Madison and a long list of celebrities, it seemed safe to assume he made them pay dearly for the kind of shady services they required. Which made the chair even more incongruous. Why wouldn’t he at least spring for one that wasn’t ripped at the arms with the stuffing spilling out?
Then again, maybe this was less a hideaway for Paul, and more a place for hiding others. And if that was the case, did those people hide willingly, or were they held against their will for a much darker purpose?
“Has anyone noticed how much this resembles the hair on the person in the video?” Aster’s troubled looked found each of them. “Do you think it was Madison who took me there?”
Tommy was the first to doubt it. “I guess it’s possible, but that makes for a really tight timeline. We hung out at the Vesper for a while.”
“Not that tight of a timeline,” Layla piped up. “Aster and Ryan hung at Night for Night as Ira served them champagne. It is possible.”
“Well, one thing’s sure.” Ryan took the wig from Aster. “I can think of two reasons why this thing was left here. One is neither Paul nor Madison believed anyone would ever find this place. The other is one or both of them knew we would most definitely find this place.” Ryan stared at the wig as though the answers were written somewhere in the strands. “And while I’m hoping for the former, I’m betting on the latter.”
“Well, if Madison was here, she clearly isn’t here now.” Tommy looked around the small rectangular room with its beamed ceiling and wood-paneled walls. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, an ugly plaid couch that looked as though it served double duty as a bed, the crappy lounge chair, an eyesore of a coffee table that had seen better days, and a tiny bathroom just off to the side with a toilet, a sink, a cracked mirror, and a minuscule stand-up shower with a serious grime issue that kicked in his gag reflex. Paul’s cabin was the definition of simple, rustic, grubby living at its best.
“Well, she might not be here now, but that doesn’t mean she won’t return, and I plan to be here waiting for her when she does,” Aster said. “Anyone have a cell signal?” She took in a collective shaking of heads and sighed.
/> “So . . . that’s the plan? To sit here and wait for an indeterminate amount of time, until Madison or Paul or both either does or doesn’t return?” Layla watched as Aster shrugged and idly picked through a stack of ancient National Geographic magazines before placing them back on the table where she’d found them. She didn’t look thrilled by the news—well, neither was Tommy.
“You have a better idea?” Aster said. “At least this gives us a chance to poke around and see what else we might find. I mean, if Madison really is or was staying here, then there must be something more than just a wig left behind. I think we should check through all the drawers, the cupboards, and even dig through the trash.” Then, looking at Ryan, she said, “What kind of food did Madison eat?”
He rubbed his chin and thought about it. “Healthy food.” He shrugged. “If you find random chia seeds and empty Pressed Juicery bottles, then you’ll know for sure she was here. Listen, you guys search inside. I’m gonna have a look around the property.”
He swiped a flashlight from a wall hook by the door and disappeared outside, as the rest of them went to work.
Tommy poked around as instructed, but his heart wasn’t in it. Besides the wig, which did seem a bit out of place, it didn’t appear as though anyone was currently in residence. The small fridge was empty, the few dishes and glasses were all put away, the trash had been taken out, and no one had bothered to replace the plastic liner bag. The only sign of life came from the multiple spiderwebs hanging from the light fixtures and draping the corners. With his luck they were probably woven by black widows—the females were considered the most venomous spider in North America, and the desert had no shortage of them. He worked his jaw and surveyed the room, on the lookout for deadly black insects with red hourglass symbols hidden on their underbellies.
“Someone planted that wig,” he muttered, though what he really wanted to say was, I think we’ve made a huge mistake by coming here, and I’m more than ready to leave!
He met Layla’s eye and they exchanged a worried look. He was just about to propose that they cut their losses and go, maybe even find a way to alert the local police, when Ryan burst through the door.
“I think I might’ve found something,” he said. “Come on!” He led them all to a small bunker-like structure that stood a dozen yards away from the property. “Gotta belong to Paul, right? I mean, since there’s nothing else around?”
Tommy studied it, figured Paul probably used it as a garage, or a shed, or a place to hide the bodies his celebrity clients hired him to dispose of. . . .
He started to walk around it, check it out from all sides, when Layla leaned against him and he decided it was better to stay right where he was.
“Guys, are you sure about this?” Layla said, her voice betraying a high level of nervousness. “I mean, what if Madison is in there, only she’s not exactly alive?” In spite of the heat, Tommy slipped a comforting arm around her, and to his relief she did nothing to stop him. “I mean, do we really want to trample all over what could possibly be viewed as a crime scene?”