Calamity Jayne And The Trouble With Tandems Part 44

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

"It's my fault. She was my friend, and I let her down. I didn't believe her, and now she's missing!" Keelie wailed.

No one had heard from Tiara and, so far, the search had turned up zip. Not surprising considering the inflated Klingon population-and a lingering skepticism, despite Langley's a.s.surances to the contrary-that this could be another reality ratings ploy.

"Don't blame yourself. How could you have known, Keelie?" Lang said.

How could she indeed? Unless...

I took a long look at the reality star, wringing her hands and looking frantic and fearful. Could it all be an act? The thought had crossed my mind before. That the whole series of mishaps had been an inside job. And who was more "inside" than the star herself?

I'd had it with the dancing on eggsh.e.l.ls bit. It was time for the direct approach.

I grabbed Keelie's arm.

"No more bull pucky, Keelie. Are you or are you not behind all the drama and TribRide turmoil?" I asked. "Is this all just part of Keelie Keller's reality TV ratings b.u.mp?"

This time Keelie was the one who looked off balance-and she didn't have the mile-high wig to blame.

"I can't believe you're accusing me-"

I shook my head at her.

"We don't have time for bl.u.s.ter," I pointed out. "Your best friend is missing, and the cops are on the case. A simple 'yes' or 'no' will do. Are you your own stalker, and is Tiara's disappearance part of some sick ratings game you're playing?"

Keelie yanked her arm free and grabbed both my wrists, her eyes locking in on my own.

"No! h.e.l.l, no! To both questions!" she hissed. "There! Satisfied? Now, can we please look for my best friend?"

For whatever reasons-the eye contact, the telltale trace of tears, the genuine anxiety I saw in her face, I believed her.

"Sorry." I a.s.sumed my best mea culpa face. "I had to ask. And Manny said he wanted you to have an officer escort you back to the bus and stay with you," I told Keelie.

"Well, good thing he works for me and not the other way around, because I'm staying right here to help with the search. If only I'd listened to Manny early on instead of being so sure you were the culprit. You aren't. Right?"

I blinked.

"I had to ask," Keelie said with a right-back-at-you lift of one brow. "Manny a.s.sured me all along you weren't the one making mischief."

"Manny told you that?"

She nodded. "He said it wasn't the way you rolled, but Vinny insisted it was you. It's official. I'm an idiot. I've lost Jax. Now it looks like I might lose Tiara."

"There, there." Lang patted Keelie's shoulder. "You're not an idiot. Tiara will be tip-top."

"Show us again how and where the two of you became separated," the police officer in charge said to Langley.

"He grabbed her right about here and took her off this way, through the crowd." Lang demonstrated. "She yelled, 'Help! Help!' but, I guess people thought it was role-playing and just laughed. I screamed for help and tried to chase them, but everyone must have a.s.sumed I was part of the act, as well. I ended up losing them."

"You did your best, Lang," Keelie said and hugged him. "You did your best."

A few minutes later, an officer came back carrying a cell phone and a familiar basket-weave wig.

"Was Ms. Fordham wearing this?" the officer asked, and Lang nodded.

"Tiara was Yeoman Rand, too?" I asked.

Tears filled Keelie's eyes.

"We'd planned our outfits together before I told her to take a hike. That she wasn't my BFF anymore. "

"We'll find her, Keelie. Honest. It'll be okay." Lang a.s.sured her.

The police dismissed us. Worried and despondent, we trekked back to the vendors' village, one eye on the lookout for a short Klingon and the other for Yeoman Rand without her trademark weave.

"I feel so helpless," Keelie said. "Why poor Tiara? Why now?"

I stopped in my tracks-and nearly fell over wig first. I stared at Keelie.

"Oh, my gosh! You're right!" I said. "You're absolutely right! Why Tiara? You were always the target. So, why take her? And why now?"

Keelie lifted her shoulders. "To get back at me? To hurt me?"

Could be, I supposed. Or...

"Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," I blurted.

"What do mean? What are you thinking?" Keelie asked.

"Okay. Let's take a look at everything that's happened on this ride. The rat. The laxative. The bike tampering. The bus tampering. The bull-the mechanical one. The toilet. The 'Keelie, go home' signs. If these aren't just reality show gimmicks to boost ratings, then someone really did want you to quit the ride. If so. Who and why?"

Keelie shook her head. "I have no idea."

"Who benefits if you quit?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure what they would do if I walked away."

"Would the show go on? Could the show go on?" I asked, and recalled the night in my living room when Tiara had offered to go on in Keelie's place.

"I suppose it could-and if I'd quit earlier, Lang and Tiara could have gone ahead and finished."

"So, if the latest s.n.a.t.c.h wasn't a hoax-"

"It wasn't!" Lang a.s.sured me. "I swear it! I love Tiara dearly, but she can't act worth spit. That was no performance!"

"Hmm." I thought for a second. "Then perhaps this hasn't been about you at all, Keelie," I said, doing my thinking aloud. Yeah. I know. Dangerous. "Maybe this has been about Tiara all along."

"I'm not following," Keelie said.

"Ditto," Lang added.

"Who stood to gain if you quit early on? Tiara Fordham. If you quit, Keelie, Tiara would have an opportunity to make a splash in the reality TV world-maybe even get her own gig. For sure she'd get lots of exposure and publicity."

"So you are saying Tiara's responsible for the mischief and her kidnapping is a hoax," Keelie said.

I shook my head.

"Well, maybe earlier on. But at this stage of the game?" I shook my head. "It doesn't make sense. It's too late for Tiara to benefit from your quitting now. The ride is almost over."

Langley, the director's son, sighed and shook his head. "Abominable pacing. Too anti-climactic," he said. "Most likely the production company would cut their losses, use the footage they had, pack up, and call it good," he said.

Keelie nodded. "He's right."

"So, maybe someone else decided Tiara deserved her chance in the limelight," I suggested. "You know. To shine like a star! Maybe this isn't about someone not liking you, Keelie, but rather about someone liking Tiara a lot."

"Like who?" Lang asked.

I shrugged. "I've got no clue. Someone who really has a thing for Tiara. Somebody who really wants her to succeed. To give her the world."

"If you're right, that's good, isn't it? If someone who cares about her, has her? Right?" Keelie asked.

If I wasn't way "out there" with Bowie's Major Tom floating around in an alternate universe.

We stood, a perplexed Trekkie trio, watching, waiting.

Kenny, I saw, was back at his booth. Or rather, Kenny the Klingon Caricaturist. Like most of the vendors, Kenny had gotten into the spirit of the s.p.a.ced-out party. Too bad, things were at red alert status. I'd rock Kenny's world and ask Keelie to pose for her number one fan.

Kenny the one-eye-fits-all artist.

He raised his hand and waved. I waved back.

I thought about those eyes-the eyes in the drawings he'd done of Gram and me-how they had appeared so similar when, in reality, are nothing alike. How despite not resembling Gram's or my eyes, they'd still seemed familiar somehow.

I thought more about those eyes and, remembering something Taylor had said, I pulled my phone out.

"h.e.l.lo? Taylor? Do you recall a certain sand sculpture-" A few minutes later I stuck my phone back in my bra and approached Kenny the Klingon Caricaturist.

Time for a little Art a.n.a.lysis 101.

"Hi Kenny. Looks like business is good. May I have a peek?" I asked the giggling coed being immortalized and motioned at the work in progress.

She giggled. "Sure. Go ahead. I hope it doesn't scare you too much."

I grinned. "I doubt that very much. Kenny here does justice to all his subjects, right, Kenny?"

"I try," he said, his eyes on easel.

I took a position behind his left shoulder and observed the drawing.

Holy battle stations! There it was! Right before my very own eyes! Why hadn't I seen it before?

"So? How is it?" the subject asked.

"Very nice," I told the coed. "You're going to be pleased. Especially with the eyes." I saw Kenny's drawing hand jerk as if he'd received a jolt of AC current. "Hey, Keelie! I told you this guy was good. Come and check Kenny's drawing out and see for yourself."

I could see from Keelie's expression she had no idea what the object of this exercise was.

Me? I just wanted a second pair of eyes to confirm I wasn't seeing things that weren't there.

Clear as dirty 3-D gla.s.ses, right?

Keelie stepped beside me.

"So, what do you think, Keelie?" I asked. "What do you think of Kenny's drawing?"

She gasped. Her jaw dropped.

That's what we call confirmation.

We continued our "art appreciation" while Kenny finished the drawing, signed it with a shaking hand, gave it to the young woman, and began to gather his supplies.

"Don't you want your money?" his young customer asked. Trembling visibly, Kenny took her money and handed her back the change.

"You've given me back too much," the girl said, and handed him back a ten and left with her picture.

"Everything all right, Kenny?" I asked. "You don't look so good."

"It's the heat. And the costume. It's getting to me."

"That's too bad," I said. "Keelie and I came for a sitting. We'd like our Star Trek street dance moment immortalized. Isn't that right, Keelie?"

Still apparently taken aback by the drawing, Keelie nodded. "Love one," she managed.

"Oh. Sorry. Another time? I'm just not feeling up to it, right now."

"That's too bad," I comforted. "Maybe you can show us some of the drawings you've already done," I suggested. "Wait. Where's your van?"

"Parked down the road a piece. Found a quiet spot where I can camp and sketch, so I nabbed it while I could."

"Oh. Well, we'll help you pack this stuff into the van for you since you're not feeling well," I insisted.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine," he said. "I don't want to put you out."

"No trouble at all," I insisted and picked up one of his cases.