Other People's Baggage
in there I could use.
    I slid off the bedspread and eased myself onto the floor next to a pile of Ziploc baggies. I piled them back inside the suitcase and found an envelope protruding from an interior pocket. I slipped the envelope out and read the name that had been caligraphied across the heavy weight paper: Ms. Elli Lisbon .
    My cross-dressing germophobe was a woman.
    Temporarily distracted from far bigger problems, I rooted through the clothes on the floor. Under the red bandana printed maxi-skirt was a white tee with a tiny pocket. Under that was a red canvas bucket hat, red canvas ballerina flats three sizes bigger than my own foot size, and a red and white striped canvas purse. Other outfits were similarly packed: a blue and brown sleeveless sundress with chambray flip flops and an oversized crushable straw hat.
    I slid the card from the envelope and read the invitation. Kick up your heels at the Annual Cattle Baron’s Ball! Said the headline, printed in deep red ink on thick stationery. I glanced back at the bucket hat and the chambray flip flops. Maybe ball meant something different in Texas.
    But then, it struck me that Ms. Elli Lisbon and her assortment of weird western clothes might get me out of there safely.
    I struggled to my feet, then pushed the western wear aside and traded the poppy printed dress for the prairie skirt. It hung to the floor, perfect for hiding my injured knee and battered white Keds. I pulled on her blue Dodgers t-shirt, then picked up the blue Carmel sweatshirt I’d bought hours earlier and tore it along a seam until I had a square of fabric to tie over my short hair, babushka style. I wasn’t concerned with looking stylish or retro or fashionable. My only concern was with not looking like me.
    I moved to the hallway and pulled the bathroom door closed to see my reflection. If success could be measured by impromptu Halloween-like attire, it had been achieved. And if I was wrong, I had a good start on an insanity case.
    The phone rang. I picked up the extension in the bathroom. Necessity in the form of knee pain forced me to close the toilet and sit on the lid. This was not my proudest moment.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œMs. Night? This is Jack Jordan.”
    â€œMr. Jordan—” I started.
    â€œCall me Jack.”
    â€œJack, I’m sorry I had to cancel our meeting tonight. Something came up—I mean, something happened. Something that concerns the hotel.”
    â€œMs. Night—” he started.
    â€œCall me Madison,” I said.
    â€œMadison, were you in the hotel bar earlier this evening?”
    â€œYes, but I had to leave. There are men who followed me here from Dallas. I don’t know what they want from me.”
    â€œHow do you know they followed you?”
    â€œI overheard them. They knew I came in from Dallas. They knew I started my trip on the east coast. One of your hotel members is involved with them. I didn’t realize it at first. I was shopping, and when I left the store one of these men was outside waiting for me. I think he was going to force me to go with him, but your hotel concierge appeared and helped me. He walked me back to the hotel and I thought I was safe, until I saw him talking to the men at the bar, so I think he’s involved too.”
    The other end of the phone was silent, and I wondered if Jack Jordan of hotel security was still on the line. “Hello?”
    â€œI’m here, Ms. Ni—Madison. Is that all you want to tell me?”
    I wanted to pretend I’d told him everything, but deep down, I knew there was more. “There’s another man here, too. Brad Turlington. He and I had a relationship that ended abruptly. I don’t know how he knew I was coming here, but he found out and followed me. Mr. Jord—Jack, I do not want to see that man.”
    â€œThe best way for you to not see that man is to remain in your room, at least for the rest of the night. Can you do
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