The Case of the Lipstick Killer

"I will include a bonus of one hundred thousand dollars on top of the cost of the flight. You and your wife can have a nice couple of days in Bonn and go home with enough money to do something nice with."

"Are you kidding me? A hundred--"

"I'm not kidding. What do you think?"

"I don't even have to check with my wife. For one hundred thousand dollars, I know she'll say yes. You have a deal," said the man as he extended his hand to shake mine.

"When do we leave?"

"The day after tomorrow. Give me your room number and your wife's name, and I'll have the plane tickets, your bonus, and all the flight details delivered to your room sometime tomorrow."

I handed the man a piece of paper and a pen.

I smiled. In two days, Roland Munson would fly to Bonn, Germany, and disappear, erasing the last possible link between Chicago, Vinnie De Luca, Charles Poloma, and Roland Munson. They would all be ghosts, having evaporated into the ether, never to be found, even by the best bounty hunter, private investigator, or the most dogged Chicago goombah.

SURGICCARE CLINIC, MAURITIUS

June 14, 2:30 p.m.

"Hi, Mr. Smith. I am Dr. Christopher Appadoo, and I will be your surgeon should you decide to go through with the surgeries you had inquired about previously."

I like this guy. He has a firm handshake and a pleasant demeanor.

"Yes, Doctor, thank you. I'm still interested in doing something about my bushy eyebrows and some skin smoothing. What do you call it?"

"Dermabrasion, Mr. Smith. It will leave your skin nice and smooth. You'll be amazed at the difference. And those eyebrows will be a thing of the past after a little electrolysis."

"Great. And I want rhinoplasty to fix my large nose as well as electrolysis for the rest of my facial hair."

"You're going to need multiple sessions of electrolysis to get a result that you would be satisfied with over your entire body. We can start those sessions here, but you will have to continue them for at least eight months and possibly up to two years after returning home. Fortunately, you don't have very thick hair, so it will probably be somewhere between one and two years," said the doctor. "So, are you going the full route to becoming a woman, or--"

"No, not at this point. I want you to fix my face and turn me into a beautiful woman. I want a nice set of boobs. You know what I mean?" I said while holding both hands palms up like I was balancing two breasts in my hands.

"I think I understand," replied the doctor with a large smile on his face.

"And, lastly, I want one of those Brazilian butt lifts. You can take some of my stomach padding and relocate it to my rear. Because I want to look hot when I'm walking away from someone and their eyes are focused on my ass."

"I get the idea. I think we can accommodate you," said the doctor.

"When can we start?" I asked.

"Are you staying somewhere on the island?"

"Yes, I'm staying at the Shangri-La Resort & Spa. I've booked a room for several weeks, at least enough time for me to recover before I head out. I understand from checking online that that is the average recovery time for the type of surgeries I'm going to have."

"That is correct. Sometimes a little longer; sometimes a little less. Regardless, you've chosen a great place to recover. They will see to all of your needs in five-star style.

"To answer your question, I can schedule your surgery for three days from now. You'll need to be here at 7:30 in the morning. The total surgery time for dermabrasion, eyebrows, breast augmentation, electrolysis, and rhinoplasty will be from seven to nine hours. For this much surgery, we'll want to keep you overnight for observation to make sure there are no complications. Then you can go back to the hotel the following morning and start your recuperation time."

"That sounds fine, Doctor. And just so there are no delays, I will be paying cash at the time of the surgery. So I'll see you in three days."

"Outstanding," replied the doctor.

SHANGRI-LA RESORT & SPA

June 14, 4:15 p.m.

I spent the next couple of days enjoying the hotel's amenities, including great cocktails at their several bars. Walks on the beach were very relaxing and helpful in forgetting the life I'm leaving behind. Just lying around the pool sipping on a tropical drink and watching the ladies frolicking about in teeny bikinis wasn't too bad either.

I know. I know. The man I hired to be Roland Munson is leaving on a charter jet tomorrow, but one extra day of playing Roland Munson won't show up on anyone's radar. In a couple of days, I'll be hiding out in my room for six weeks recovering. No one will even miss Roland. Besides, I'll be a woman by then.

I'm gonna have to get used to living as a woman. Me. It's hard to wrap my mind around that reality. Well, at least when this is over, and I'm all recovered, I'll enjoy looking at myself in the mirror. I wonder if I'm going to be looking in the mirror all the time, playing with my new boobs and grabbing my ass constantly? Will I get tired of them?

That will be a sight; a woman's breasts and a man's package, which is quite the contrast. People will now consider me a woman in transition, even though I won't be. Not really. I'll just be a man hiding as a woman. I have a hunch there's going to be some confusion in my next life. I'm going to have to spend some time learning how a woman's mind works, how they think, and how they interact with other women, as well as men. I'll be smack dab in the middle of all of that shit.

I think I need to get laid while I still can.

After a quick shower, a blow-dry, and a dab of cologne, it was off to the hotel bar looking for a woman.

Three Hours Later

Well, that blows. What is it, my Clark Kent glasses? I almost had that cute blonde--until her girlfriend came back from the bathroom. What's this world becoming? Maybe I'll have better luck as a woman. Or a man who looks like a woman. Great. I think most women will expect me to have something else down there. What the hell am I getting myself into. I hope it's worth it.

SURGICCARE CLINIC, MAURITIUS

June 15, 7:30 a.m. Local Time

"Good morning, Mr. Smith. Are you ready for an exciting day? How would you like to be addressed after the surgery? I wouldn't want to call you by your deadname if that's the case," said Dr. Appadoo,

"Deadname?" asked Mr. Smith.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. You're new to this. The previous name of a man or a woman who changes genders is referred to as their deadname. It's a name they never want to be referred to as again and is considered offensive when someone uses their deadname."

"I'll figure all that out later, Doc. For now, just use Mr. Smith. After my surgery, you can call me Miss Smith."

"May I assume you took the pill this morning that I gave you earlier?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, I took it."

"Very good. Please go with my nurse, and she will get you your gown and get you ready for surgery."

5:45 p.m.

"Can you hear me, Miss Smith?" asked the nurse.

"What?"

"Your surgery went very well, and you're in the recovery room, waking up from the anesthesia. You'll feel a little groggy for a while. We're going to move you to a private room when you're awake, and we'll keep an eye on you during the night. When you feel up to it in the morning, we'll take you to your hotel so you can begin your recovery." "I don't know what you gave me, but it's some good shit," mumbled Miss Smith.

June 16, 8:25 a.m.

"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Smith?" asked the nurse.

"You were right. I slept great."

"When you're ready, come out front, and we'll get you back over to your hotel."

THE SHANGRI-LA RESORT & SPA

June 16, 9:10 a.m.

That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. But we'll see how well I feel when all the meds wear off. I have a hunch I'll be needing these pain pills they gave me.

For now, I need a long nap and then let the recovery begin.

For the new me, the first three weeks were excruciating. Thank God that the second three weeks got better day by day. I had arranged for a live-in nurse for the first two weeks of recovery time to check and change dressings when necessary and make sure no infections were setting in.

She was a sweet island lady, and I grew very fond of her. I was sorry to see her go, but life moves on.

CEDRIC BUNDHOO'S OFFICE VILLAGE OF TROU D'EAU DOUCE

July 29, 1:30 p.m.

I walked into the office with a new walk and an even cheekier attitude. I was now all woman, all the time, and I liked it.

Well, almost all woman. I'm considered a male-to-female transgender person in transition. That's something I'll have to deal with at some point, but not right now.

"You must be Cedric. I'm your 1:30 appointment."

"Great," said Cedric. "You mentioned a little bit about what you want over the phone yesterday. Can you give me some specifics?"

"Sure. I need two whole new identities. That would include a US Social Security number and card, a passport and passport card, a State of California driver's license, and a birth certificate--times two. The last thing I need is a private investigator's license issued by the California Association of Licensed Investigators in the name of Nikki Fontaine.

"The first identity will be under Jacalyn Macy's name, and I just told you the other one."

I handed Cedric a piece of paper with the correct name spellings printed out and other essential details, like height, weight, hair color, and eye color.

"You can find the California Association of Licensed Investigators online. Make my license three years old. And how soon can I get all of this?"

"Give me four days, and I'll have everything ready for you."

"One other thing," I said. "When you're all through, I need you to wipe your computer hard drive as well as any hard-copy documents of any reference to Nikki Fontaine. References to Jacalyn Macy are fine. I can't have anyone know that Nikki Fontaine exists. Can you do that?"

"I can do that. I protect my clients in every way possible, including deleting any reference to them. No problem."

"Thank you. That will work. I'll be back in four days," I replied.

"Bye now," I said as I strolled to the door, knowing Cedric's eyes were following my every step and exaggerated sway of my new sweet ass.

THE SHANGRI-LA RESORT & SPA

August 2, 10:25 a.m.

I spent the last four days as Miss Smith enjoying the amenities offered by the hotel, including a lot of seat time at the different bars sipping cocktails with little umbrellas and cherries sitting on top. I particularly enjoyed all the attention I was getting from various men trying their best to get me up to their rooms. Jeez. What if I look like a slut? Not what I'm looking for.

I'm done here. Today is check-out day. I paid for everything in advance, so I don't need to go check out officially. All that's left is to pick up my new identity documents, and I'm out of here.

Well, Mauritius, it's been--well, it's just been.

CEDRIC BUNDHOO'S OFFICE VILLAGE OF TROU D'EAU DOUCE

August 2, 11:30 a.m.

"Good morning, Miss Smith. So nice to see you again. Everything you requested is ready for you."

"This is for you. I believe it will cover everything adequately."

Cedric opened the small bag and looked inside.

"You are very generous, madam," said Cedric. "This will do just fine. And here are your documents."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Cedric. Thank you."

Once outside, I stepped into the waiting limo and was driven directly to the airport. My Emirates flight to San Francisco was leaving at 4:45 p.m.

SIR SEEWOOSAGAR RAMGOOLAM

INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

August 2, 2:50 p.m.

When the PA system's voice announced Jacalyn Macy's Emirates flight was boarding, I made my way to the pre-boarding first-class line and waited. Within ten minutes, I was seated in the first-class cabin waiting for a glass of Dalmore King Alexander III singlemalt scotch.

At 4:40 p.m., the Emirates Boeing 777-300ER slid effortlessly from the runway into the pale blue sky towards the first of two stops on the 23-hour flight to San Francisco. After a stopover in Dubai, and then a long flight to Los Angeles for another stopover, it was a short 45-minute flight north to San Francisco.

Like the other aliases I created to disappear from the Chicago mob totally, Jacalyn Macy became a ghost the second I stepped off the plane in San Francisco, and Nikki

Fontaine was born.  

ALAMEDA, CALIFORNIA

August 3, 2:15 p.m.

I pulled up to the curb in front of the Victorian home with the for sale sign sticking in the lawn, and I carefully parked my new Tesla Roadster. I didn't want to scuff the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup tires or scratch those beautiful rims. At almost $900 per tire and $2500 for each rim, I am very protective of my baby. I just love this car.

"You must be Nikki," said the cheerful voice as I closed the door and turned around.

"That would be me. You must be Brenda."

"Yes, I am. Very nice to meet you, Nikki. I have a wonderful home to show you. This part of town is called the Gold Coast in Alameda. Beautiful old Victorians. I just love them. Even the name of the street sounds regal. St. Charles. I hope this will be your new home."

Little did I know that a half mile down St. Charles Street in the other direction was once considered the poor side of town, with a now vacant multi-acre open park area that used to be the location of a train yard. Now the houses in the poor side of town, which once sold for under ten thousand dollars, were now valued at over a million dollars. What a difference five decades makes. Location, location, location.

"Well, let's have a look-see and find out," I replied.

A little under an hour later, the real estate agent and I walked back down the pathway of my new home to the sidewalk.

"I love it," I told her. "I will take it. This will be an all-cash sale. I would like to close escrow as soon as possible."

"I'll try for 15 days, but it will be no more than 30," replied Brenda.

NIKKI FONTAINE'S RESIDENCE

ST. CHARLES STREET, ALAMEDA

August 23, 2023

I know I'm going to love it here. Now I need to find an office so I can open my new private detective agency. I think I'll call it Nikki Fontaine Investigations. That has a nice ring to it. I'll find an office in Oakland. That way, it's close but not right on top of me.

The next thing I'll do is sign up for this CALI conference in Palm Springs next month to start creating contacts and make acquaintances in the PI business to establish myself.

August through January

The conference in Palm Springs was fun, and I made several acquaintances, which should come in handy in the future.

I found a tidy little office on Grand Avenue in Oakland not too far from Lake Merritt and a quaint old-time movie house called the Grand Lake Theatre. The part of Grand Avenue from my new office to and past the theater is a trendy shopping area, as was Lakeshore Boulevard just a few blocks over from Grand Avenue.

Now I've got my car, my home, and my office. Guess I'd better hire some employees so I can start my business--and the rest of my life.

THE KONA CLUB, PIEDMONT AVENUE, OAKLAND

January 28, 2024, 8:30 p.m.

Jackie Morrison and Gwen Stein had been seeing each other for eight months, but their relationship had scraped bottom on some jagged rocks, and the fun seemed to be leaking from their love boat. Jackie had been seeing someone else on the side and decided to end her relationship with Gwen in favor of Lani, her new heartthrob.

Jackie and Gwen were sitting at a small table towards the back of the bar, working on their second cocktail, and things were starting to get tense. No one likes finding out they are an ex when they think they're still the shiny new toy.

"I don't understand," pleaded Gwen. "What have I done to change the way you feel about me?"

"Sometimes, good things just come to an end, and no one can figure out why. It's just not the same, and I don't see the point of just going through the motions for the sake of going through the motions. Like I told you on the phone, I feel it is time for both of us to move on."

"Are you already seeing someone else, Jackie?"

"Yes, I've met someone, and I want to see where things go. I never committed to a forever relationship when we first met. I thought you understood that from the outset."

"Well, yeah. But I thought things were going great, and I didn't expect to be blindsided and cast aside like last week's leftovers."

"Listen, Gwen. We're both adults, and I think we should just accept the fact that both of us aren't on the same page any longer. Anyway, I need to go to the restroom. I'll be right back."

As Jackie got up and walked towards the restroom, Gwen's expression turned dour. How can she do this to me?

"She'll regret tossing me into the trash like torn wrapping paper after Christmas.

She can't just dump me out of the blue and get away with it."

"I hope we can still be friends, Gwen. I do care for you," said Jackie as she sat back down at their table and took another sip of her Mai Tai.

"Well, why don't you finish your drink, at least. I hope you know you've hurt my heart. I think you're gonna regret breaking up with me. We have something special, and that's not something you can just throw away and find it again around the next corner," said Gwen with a mixed tone of defeat and repressed anger.

Jackie took a couple of large sips, more like gulps, so she could make her exit before things got too emotional. She could tell that Gwen wasn't accepting the new reality, but that was something for Gwen to figure out.

"Well, I don't see any reason for us just to keep sitting here rehashing the same thing over and over. It's been over a month now. I hope you can learn to accept that we're over and move on. That's what I'm doing. I'm going to leave. Please take care of yourself," said Jackie as she set her empty glass on the table, grabbed her purse, and walked away from a teary-eyed Gwen sitting slumped at the now table for one.

"I can't believe I've allowed someone to break my heart again," said Gwen in a low voice as she cradled her Mai Tai. "My mom was right. It's foolish to hand your heart to someone hoping they will make you happy. You have to find your own happiness.

Once you do that, then look for someone to come along for the ride."

Gwen finished her drink, went out to the parking lot, sat in her car, and cried for a few minutes, and then she did what she always does; she called her mom. Her mom also lived in Oakland. Gwen just didn't feel like dropping by and listening to any more lectures from her mom. Every time a girlfriend dumps Gwen, her mom is there to help pick up the pieces. She was there for Gwen in Fresno. She relocated to Oakland when Gwen did so she could lend her the support she knew her daughter would need due to her gay lifestyle and always being the one in a relationship to end up crashed and battered against the rocky ocean shore.

"Hi, mom. It's me," said Gwen.

"What's the matter, baby? You don't sound good," replied her mom.

"Jackie broke up with me. She said that she wasn't in love with me anymore. She's already found someone to replace me like I'm just a replaceable car part or something."

"What about her husband? She was going to leave him to be with you. Is she going to leave him for this new girlfriend?"

"I don't know, mom. I can't think too straight right now. I know what I'd like to do, but I think I'll just go home and take a Valium and go to sleep."

"Be careful with those things. You don't want to overdo it. They're pretty strong."

"Okay, mom. I just wanted to hear your voice. I'll talk to you later. Good night."

Gwen started driving cautiously. She had had two drinks and didn't want to get pulled over and get smacked in the face with a DUI. Not tonight. She had had one before and couldn't afford another one.