Forever Poi by Tyler Colins

Author:Tyler Colins [Colins, Tyler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2019-07-08T22:00:00+00:00

* * *

While Xavier focused on closets, cupboards and drawers, Rey took bedrooms, and I the office and bathrooms. The third album from Impossible Gentlemen (our adjuster's choice) played in the background. The good taste in furnishings extended to music; two hundred CDs, primarily jazz and blues, were located at the base of the costly entertainment unit.

Heavy rain had begun to strike the metal railing and tile flooring of the balcony like miniscule glass balls while thunder rumbled in the distance like 10-pin bowling balls toppling pins. Trees and shrubs engaged in lyrical dancing.

Brushes and bowls, towels, jars and containers in a small guest bathroom demonstrated a penchant for royal blue and Tuscan-sun yellow. A small mountain of tiny floral soaps took me back to family get-togethers. My mother and aunts had shared a mutual love of “baby” soaps, and had always packed (or pilfered) several. I'd liked the rose-shaped and scented ones. Sighting one, I held it to my nose and was transported to the Poconos in 1999. Into a jean pocket it went.

A large bathroom down the hallway held a sleek, modern freestanding tub. A cabinet was replete with both male and female personal products, confirming that Bizz Waxx didn't reside alone. Nothing, however, suggested the “couple” shared an intimate relationship. While he was a fan of Cole's spicy-woodsy “Black”, she preferred Laurent's sweet “Black Opium”. Interesting. Obviously, Bizz Waxx never applied the fragrance when playing “impoverished suffering artist”.

The only prescription on a cabinet shelf was for levothyroxine, a thyroid medication. The name on the small bottle, which came from a nearby pharmacy, was Lolita Renoir.

I peered into the hallway just as Xavier jumped from a large walk-in closet. Waving a red-leather Kate Spade wallet, he grinned from ear to ear like a choir boy having sung solo at Sunday mass. “I found a leather knapsack hanging under a trench coat. It contains 100 dollars, a couple of credit cards, and business cards—specifically, Lolita's, James-Henri's and Cholla's, and two banks.”

“Awesome. Maybe that safety-deposit key Hives took is for one of them,” Rey said excitedly. “By the way, Bizz Waxx and Lolita weren't lovers. I'd bet dollars to donuts on that.”

“It certainly appears that way,” I agreed.

“They could simply have been good friends,” Xavier said simply. “Or sharing the rent.”

“Are you two done?” Rey asked.

“I still have the office,” I replied.

“I haven't touched the kitchen yet,” Xavier advised.

“I've got a few drawers left in one of the bedrooms, but so far, there's nothing out of the ordinary. Everything's clean and neat.” Rey frowned. “Maybe too clean and neat.”

“Lolita may have suffered from OCD,” Xavier said simply.

“And instilled that in Bizz Waxx,” I added. “This place is an antithesis to the studio.”

Xavier looked around puzzled. “Do I hear Sammy Davis?”

Rey smiled flatly. “Where's the 'Candy Man'?”

With a grin, I strolled to the living room, where I'd left my bag. “Hey stranger,” I greeted Linda. “You have exciting news, I hope?”

“Sorry about not calling sooner. I've been on the go pretty much since I arrived.

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