April Isn't Just A Month

It was the only fair way to operate the free laundry room. Plans were in the works to convert the laundry room to a coin operated laundromat. If or when the existing machines had to be replaced it would happen. The building was in constant state of flux, turmoil was normal in her life. April could only hope the changes were always for the better.

April went to dinner after she finished her laundry. Since she was not a big seafood fan, she went to a family steak house. One of those places where the customer went through a line picking up a salad and desert then placing his or her order for the steak of their choice. The steak would be cooked to order then brought to the table by the waitress. It wasn't fancy, but it was good food at a reasonable price. April didn't waste money, even though she was making plenty of it. For her everything was about convenience and product quality versus the cost.

After dinner she went back to the motel and to her computer terminal. She found a phone message from Thomas Black. He wanted to make an appointment to come by for a chat, and to pick up Jessica's things. He was staying in the company provided motel room, even though he had an apartment in April's building.

She dialed the number, "Mr. Black this is April Smythe the owner of the apartment you called about. Let me say first that I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, could you tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Mr. Black to protect you and me, I need to be sure that you are who you say you are. Could you meet me tomorrow and bring some form of ID. You could also empty out the apartment at that time." April said.

"I don't want anything from the apartment. I might have a box full of clothes and some pictures otherwise I don't want anything," he informed April.

"We can talk about that all tomorrow, so what time can you make it?" she asked.

"I'll try to make it around lunch time." He said.

"I close the office from twelve till one for lunch, otherwise I'll be there all day," April said.

It was a quiet night for April as she made the necessary moves to switch her sleep schedule. They included no naps during the evening, and staying awake until 2am. When she finally did sleep, she slept until 7am. For one used to sleeping for short periods at odd times, it was enough to get her though the day.

Thomas Black showed up at 11am, "Miss Smythe, I'm Thomas Black, I decided I want to look through Jess's things after all."

"Good, I would like to get everything taken care of today so I can get a cleaning crew in tomorrow. I'm going to have to keep your cleaning deposit, but I won't pursue you for the additional cleaning expense.

Now I really am curious, since it happened here. I am not going to feel safe till I understand why. You can understand that can't you?" she asked.

"Yes I suppose so. I really don't have any idea what happened. Jess was tending bar at a club on the strip is all I know. Maybe someone from there followed her home and stabbed her," Thomas said.

He might not have known it, but he gave April information she didn't have before. For one thing, he didn't seem to know that she was dancing. April also hadn't known that Jessica was stabbed. She thought so, but it had been possible that she had been shot and no one heard the noise.

"Did the police say whether she had been drugged or not. It occurred to me that someone might have slipped something into her drink." April knew people wanted to believe certain things and Thomas wanted to believe that Jessica was a simple bartender. To April it appeared likely she was dancing to support a drug habit or something just as nefarious, otherwise he would have known what she had been up to.

"That is probably what happened," he said looking less distressed than he had earlier. "The cops said she had a sedative show up on the blood test. They thought she was abusing prescription drugs, but I think you are right, someone slipped it in her drink. I told her not to take that job, but it was the only job she could find," Thomas said.

"Okay, are you ready to clean out the place?" April asked.

"Okay, you are coming with me aren't you. You know just in case we find something," Thomas asked before April could suggest the same thing.

"Okay, but the cops did a pretty thorough search," April said leading the way to apartment number three located on the ground floor. There were ten motel rooms on each floor so there would be ten apartments, when it was completed. There would be five upstairs and five downstairs.

Number three was right in the middle of the building on the first floor. April used her master key to open the room. Since the cops had kept it all closed up, it smelled pretty bad. There was the smell of blood and feces in the air.

Once Thomas entered the room, he turned to run out the door and onto the lawn. It was most likely programmed into our human DNA to react to the smell of death by retching. April never got used to the sound of retching and then there was the smell of death. It made her nauseous. She was able to stop herself from vomiting with a high degree of self control.

"You okay," She asked Thomas when he had finished retching.

"Yes, would you clean out her personal items for me. I can't go in there," he said.

"Tell me what you want, and I'll bring it to the parking lot outside the office," April suggested.

"Her jewelry box and any picture or letters you find lying about," Thomas said. "There might be some of my clothes as well."

"Okay," April agreed then went inside the apartment. The smell reminded her of Afghanistan. More exactly, It reminded her of the tent where they had stored the bodies waiting to be embalmed. She sorted through the living room/kitchen first. There was no computer, if jessicam owned one, the cops had taken it. April found a plastic recipe box in a kitchen cabinet. Since it was not a perishable item, she put it to one side to take to Thomas. Then she checked the two supermarket tabloids. There were no marks or papers inside.

April moved to the bedroom. The bed had been striped of it's linens. The cops probably were going to keep them as evidence and hope to match some dna. There were plenty of shoes and skimpy dresses in her closet. At first April thought they were dance costumes, then she realized Jessica Rabbit surely wore no more than parts of a bikini while pole dancing. Jessica must have worn the sexy clothes when she went out. April found a photo of her on the pole. She was torn about delivering it to Thomas Black. In the end she decided to turn it over. She packed all her skimpy dresses and her personal items from the bathroom in a garbage bag. She added some jeans that most likely belonged to Thomas, then left the apartment.

"Here you go," April said to him as she stood by his pickup truck.

He sorted through the things and looked totally bewildered. "Shit it looks as though she was a whore," he said. April chose to ignore it. Thomas walked over and threw the loaded bag from the apartment into the trash can. "You can have what ever is left, I just want to forget all this shit." Less than a minute later he was pulling out of the parking lot.

April went back inside to answer the phone for a half hour before lunch. She had lunch at her apartment where she sat trying to see the inconsistencies. It was how she had been trained to observe the human body and it's abnormalities.

Okay everything pointed to Jessica Rabbit being a party girl. Well everything but the recipe box. That pointed to Jessica the happy home maker. On the way back to the office she passed the trash can Thomas had used to dispose of her memory. From the can she salvaged the black bag.

Once inside the office she began to go through it carefully. On the rear of a Chocolate Pie recipe card she found something. She found an email address and the script Bluebird12. She put it aside and continued to check the box. She found three other sites and what appeared to be passwords.

April guessed that Jessica was one of those people who didn't really understand computers, but used them just the same. She probably didn't use it often and needed a reminder in case she got locked out. April was sure the police had unlocked and followed her online trail.

She wasn't really withholding evidence, since they had the computer. She was sure they knew one hell of a lot more than she would ever be able to find out about Jessica Rabbit.

What was she thinking, she asked herself. Was she really going to run some kind of amateur investigation. If she was, why the fuck was she going to do it. That part was simple, to rub Mordecai Goodman's nose in it of course. "That piece of shit needs to be taken down a notch," she said to the empty room.

April put off looking at Jessica's Email, and the websites in her recipe box until after her frozen dinner and chemical iced tea had been consumed. After her chemically laced dinner, she moved from the small dinning table to the built in desk on the wall of entertainment devices. Finally April pulled up Jessica's email account, but only after she checked her own email.

It surprised her that Jessica had a generic email, rather than one of those name brand models. From Experience April knew that too many failed attempts to enter the account would lock it. She need not have worried because if opened on the first attempt. It could be that the cop's plan was to leave it open in order to track her future emails, April thought. She reminded herself again to be careful not to leave any obvious trails on the site. It was possible to leave a trail should she try to delete anything. She didn't see any problems ahead, as she did not plan to delete anything. Not even Jessica's negative comments to her husband about April and Viv.

As April read Jessica's Email it was obvious that she and her husband were arguing often. Her first complaint was that although she had access to their joint bank accounts, he had lowered the amount of the automatic deposits.

He claimed that the money was going into their retirement account. His defense was that she needed to spend less money, or get a job.

Later there were Email by Jessica explaining that she had a job working for a private club on the strip. She even gave him the name of the club in case of emergency. She also explained that she would be using the name Jessica Rabbit as an alias while at work. That was so that he could ask for her by that name should he need to call.

Then came a series of Email consisting of her time spent waiting for the apartment approval. Almost all her email was harmless and was addressed to her husband. It all seemed very much like the emails of a normal couple until about two months before her death. At that time she began seriously bitching about the smaller bank account. It was pretty easy to pinpoint the time when the money shortage began.

April hadn't realized that Jessica occupied the second apartment she had converted. Since Jessica told her husband about the noise and confusion in the parking lot while the worker were constantly converting apartments. April was able to use that image to fit the Emails into the time line of what was going on at the motel. Jessica almost never mentioned the club.

Thomas hadn't mentioned to April that he had taken his last leave from the drilling platform at the apartment. Viv would have had more contact with the two of them than April. She might know more about his stay at the apartment.

According to an email three weeks before her death, Thomas had taken her to work while on his break from the rig. He obviously stayed to watch her dance, since he commented that he hoped none of his buddies from the rig ever saw her and recognized her as his wife. Her response was that she wore so much make up and with the red hair, her own mother wouldn't recognize her. Obviously the red hair was new since her employment at the Diamond Club.

Now why had he been so quick to tell April that Jessica was a simple bartender, when he knew better. He was on the rig, so he had an air tight alibi. April considered it odd, as she was sure Goodman had. Could it possible be a murder for hire kind of thing.

She hadn't realized how fast time was passing. It was almost midnight before she knew it. April had a problem estimating the passage of time, since her sleep patterns were so erratic.

After April removed her jeans and bra she climbed into the bed wearing only her fancy tee shirt and bikini panties. She lay in bed where she realized that her recent visit from Mordecai had her taking stock of herself. She was painfully honest in her evaluation. She was forty eight years old, and twenty pounds above her ideal weight. Actually she was carrying twenty five more pounds than she had carried in Afghanistan. She knew that she needed to lose weight. Because of the long hours in surgery over there, and then the long hours at Urgent Care had done a number on her knees she couldn't run. She also knew that becoming a yuppie gym rat just wasn't going to happen, so she would have to just live with her lack of exercise. She also wasn't having much luck controlling her eating.

Shaking her head she continued with her honest appraisal. She had pretty average boobs, she thought. They were 36c on a good day and with a good bra. Even though she never had kids, they sagged some. She could use a natural boob lift. One of those where the tissue was tightened and the cavity filled with her own excess body fat. It was all the thing at the time. She also had the option to just buying better bras.

Almost all the excess twenty five pounds was in her hips. She had the saddlebag hips, not a bubble butt that men loved so much. If she dressed well, say for a meeting, or a date she could do some things to mitigate the flaws in her figure.

Her hair was another disaster. She had the cursed thin hair gene, which ran in her family. Even though she had it cut in a ragged punk, boy's style, it was neither classy, nor fashionable. It was just a mess all the time. She had given up on it. She simply washed it with hand soap and towel dried it in the summer months. She saved her blow dryer for December thru February.

April fell asleep knowing that her lack of a man had nothing to do with her rather average looks. The depressing truth was it had everything to do with the fact that she valued her independence more than any man's companionship. Especially a man like that dick head Mordecai Goldman. She just had never been willing to play the game. The one where a woman overlooked a man's failings and accepted them.

April slept quite well even in her mild depression, or maybe because of it. It was 6:30am when she awoke. She was rested and ready for the day. She moved on autopilot as she showered and dressed for the day. She fried up some bacon from the week before and threw in an egg and some cheese. She made herself a hell of a bacon and egg bagel. The southern absorption of the bagel into their menu surprised no one. The Louisiana menu was filled with stolen recipes and adaption of them into something unique to the area.

She was finished with breakfast at 8am, so she knew she had time to run to the store for sodas. When she went out to the parking lot to start the Jag, it did nothing. She tried for several minutes with the same lack of success. She could not believe how bad her luck had become lately. She gave up and just bought a single soda from a vending machine. The machine was also left over from the motel days. She gave the concession to Viv, as long as she took care of it. Viv bought the soda, stocked the machine, and collected the money. There was an understanding that when the machine died, it would not be replaced. In the meantime it added a little to Viv's take home.

April thought about that, as she walked across the parking lot. In the office she looked up her mechanic's number in her online address book, then placed the call.

'Gerard's," a heavily accented voice said.

"Is Gerard around?" April asked.

"He's pretty busy," the man's voice replied.

"Tell him it's the woman who saw him naked a month ago, and he still owes me," she said with a silent laugh.

A few minutes later a voice said, "Cher how the hell are you."

"Hello Gerard, I need your coon ass," April said.

"Oh you missed me?" he asked.

"Yeah, but my Jag needs you this morning," April said.

"I though you could do anything Cher. What is that piece of Brit shit up to now?" Gerard asked.

"That piece of Brit shit won't do nothing. It has a new battery and I looked at the terminals. They look okay to me, but what do I know."

"About that Jag you know a lot Cher, but I'm going to send Gerard Junior over with a tow bar. He will pull it back to the shop. I'll give you a call tonight and let you know what's what," he said.

"Fair enough. It's in the parking lot at the Motel," she said. "The spare key is under the hood."

"We be along shortly Cher," Gerard said. April was sure he meant it, but it didn't solve her immediate problem

April had always known the day would come when the Jag would no longer be dependable enough for her work. When that happened her options were few, or at least she had always thought.

Since it has 125,000 miles on it, the time might be now, she thought.

She had been flirting with the idea of purchasing the absolutely most dependable transportation. The lowest tech, and therefor most dependable vehicle, was a bicycle. It was also the cheapest and might even help her with her weight issues.

There was nothing to do at the office other than answer the phones, and wait for someone to walk in with a problem, she went on line to research bicycles. God know she was going to have nothing else to do, since she had decided the night before not to research Jessica's online habits from the office computer. There was no sense making it too easy for Mordecai to bust her.

She had nothing else to do but research things on the web. It was either that or watch old tv shows on line, she chose to research bicycles.

After she read the news, she went all over the web checking on bicycles. She found brands listed which she had never heard and meant absolutely nothing to her. She found that there were basically three types of bicycles, racing bikes, mountain bikes, and cruisers. Her first decision had to be which one to buy. She was immediately drawn to the beach cruiser, since she lived close to the beach. They were also the most comfortable and least technically advanced, which is what she wanted.

She found an online chart, which helped her decide on the size to best fit her body. Then she checked the different brands and frame designs. After that it became a question of availability. She had to have one locally and ideally close enough to ride home from the store.

She had spent all morning doing her diligent research. When Viv stopped in around noon, she was still at it. "I didn't see your car, I thought something was wrong," Viv commented immediately upon entering the office.

"There is, my Jag is sick. Gerard, my mechanic, sent his son over to pull it to his shop," April explained.

"So, if you need to go anywhere let me know. I'll be happy to give you a lift," Viv offered. April had always felt that Viv wanted them to be friends. She expected it might make her job even more secure.

"Thanks, I might need you to take me to the store to buy a bike, if Gerard is going to have the Jag a while. He keeps telling me that those things are a bear to work on." April warned her.

"If you want a bike, you should go out to New World Pawn Shop. He always has a bunch out front," Viv suggested.

"If you aren't too busy would you give me lift there now," April asked.

"Sure, just set the calls to forward to your cell," Viv said.

"Yeah, I know," April said. She knew Viv did that once in a while when she had a personal errand to run.