CHEESE!

CHEESE!

“CHEESE!”

I clicked the shutter button. I felt a little weird saying “cheese” out loud because I was alone. But, hey, I wasn’t going to see any of these people ever again. And you always say cheese when you take a picture, right?

I checked the time, and realized that I had to hurry, or I was going to be late with my meetup with my husband Max. He was finished with his session at three o’clock, and it was already two forty-five. I was a bit of a distance away from the conference venue, so I decided that public transport was the way to go.

I quick-walked to the nearest bus stop, just in time to jump on a westbound bus.  A man crowded on behind me, almost pushing me into the driver.  

“Excuse me!” I said, scowling.

The man just scowled back.

 I moved to the back of the streetcar. The man followed me.

Creepy, I thought. Then promptly forgot about him.

It was only five stops until the hotel. I pushed the stop request button and waited at the back exit door. When the bus came to a halt and the doors opened, I started to descend the two stairs to the pavement. But then I was flying through the air, landing on my hands and knees on the pavement.

“What the—”

The man who had pushed me when we were getting on the bus had now pushed me off the bus. And he was grabbing for the strap of my bag, trying to pull it from my shoulder.

“Get away from me!’ I screeched at him.

The bus driver came running out of the front doors towards us.

“Hey! Get the hell away from her! I’m calling the cops!”

The driver pulled his phone out and started pushing the buttons, still moving towards us. 

The man ignored him, and just kept yanking at my purse. I was determined not to let it go.

Then my assailant pulled out a knife, and started moving towards me.

“Gimme the bag, bitch!”

“No!” I shouted.

Still on the ground, I swung my leg around and kicked, hard, landing a direct hit to his crotch. 

“Ooofff!” he said, dropping his knife, and doubled over.  But he still held on to the strap.

I kicked again, this time hitting him in the chin wth the heel of my shoe. He let go of my bag, and staggered backwards. I scrambled away, out of his grasp.  I could hear sirens getting louder.

Apparently, so could my assailant. He tried to stand up, succeeded, sort of, and shuffled away — down the stairs and into the underground mall that exists below the city. Before he disappeared, he turned to scowl at me, his phone to his ear.

“Are you okay?” asked the driver, helping me to my feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But what the absolute hell?”

The driver shook his head. “Scary shit!” is all he said.

The police and EMTs arrived. One of the EMTs escorted me over to the ambulance.

I had ripped my jeans, scraped my knee and both palms from skidding across the sidewalk when the assailant had pushed me off the bus. I also had a nick on the underside of my arm where the knife had gotten me.

“It’s not too bad,” said the EMT looking at the cut. “I don’t think you need stitches, it’s not that deep. “ She applied three butterfly sutures after cleaning the wound.

I hadn’t even realized that I’d been cut.  I shivered thinking about what could have happened, if ...

My palms and knee were also cleaned, and gauze pads applied. As we were finishing up, a woman approached the back of the ambulance were I was seated. 

“Delaney Issacs? I’m detective Terry Waits. It looks like you’ve had a bit of an incident. Can you tell me what happened today?”

I recounted my story to her, starting with getting on the bus until the guy fled the scene after I kicked him.

“So,” she said, “the first time that you encountered this individual was when he shoved you from behind when you got on the bus?”

“Right.”

“And then he shoved you off the bus?”

“Yes.”

“And he tried to snatch your purse when you were on the ground? But you fought back?”

“Correct.”

“Can I see your bag, please.”

I handed her my bag and she examined it.

“I don’t suppose you tried to cut the strap off of your own bag?”

I was confused. “No. Why would I do that?”

She showed me where the strap of the bag was almost cut clean through.

“I think that when he shoved you he was also trying to cut the strap first. He figured you’d be so startled by the shove that you wouldn’t notice that he was cutting your bag’s strap.”

I looked at her. “Why would he do that?”

She shrugged. “He wanted your bag, or something in it.”

“Damn,” I said. “I loved that bag.”

*****

“Delaney! Oh my God! Are you okay?”

I’d called Max and told him what happened, and where I was. Because it was directly across from the hotel we were staying at, he had rushed right over.

“I’m fine,” I said, jumping down from the back of the ambulance. Showing him my bandaged hands, I said, “See? All taken care of.”

I introduced Max to Detective Waits. I told him what had happened.  

“Why would anyone do that to you?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I said. “I was just out walking around, marvelling at how much things had changed in the downtown core. I was just being touristy.”

Max looked at Detective Waits.  

“Do we have anything to worry about, Detective? What if the guy comes back?”

She paused. “You probably don’t have to be too concerned. I’m hoping it was just a random attack, but be vigilant, just in case it wasn’t. If you see someone suspicious, call me.” She handed each of us a business card. “My personal cell is listed on the back. Call if you need me.”

We left and headed back to the hotel. Slowly. I was limping and my muscles were beginning to ache.

As we made our way into the hotel lobby and towards the elevators, Max stopped and looked at me, concerned.

“What was in the bag that was so important that someone would want to hurt you for?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

He looked at me. “Nothing?” he said.

“Yeah, nothing. I bring it with me in case I buy something, so I don’t have to get a plastic bag. I hadn’t bought anything yet.”

“Then why didn’t you give it to him? He had a weapon! He could have hurt you.. A lot.” Now Max was starting to anger. “Damnit Delaney! He had a knife! What if he’d stabbed you? You could have been killed over an empty bag!!”

I looked at him. Max rarely got mad. Today was the exception. “I didn’t think about that. I was just so pissed off at the guy for literally pushing me around. I just reacted. It was foolish and dangerous. I wasn’t thinking”

Max’s anger evaporated, and he pulled me into a hug.  

“I was so worried when you called me," he said into my ear, hugging me tighter.

When the elevator dinged, we broke apart, and stepped into the car. There were three other people on the elevator with us. A couple, and a single man. The couple got off on the third floor, We were on six. Apparently so was the man. When the doors opened we turned right towards our room, and the man stopped to read the room location sign.  

I was stiffening up from the fall, so we were forced to walk slowly towards our room.

“I’m going down to the pool so that I can use the sauna,” I said.

“I’ll come too.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine.” I knew Max was not a fan of hot humid saunas.

Max smiled. “I know. But I think that a nice steam will be nice. Sweat out all the stress from today.”

We arrived at our room, six twenty-eight, and Max swiped the room key over the lock. Before we could enter our room, the door across the hall opened, and one of Max’s colleagues came out.

“Max! Great talk today!”

Shoot! I had forgotten that Max was presenting today. I’m a terrible partner.

“Thanks!” said Max, smiling. “The group seemed to enjoy it.” He turned towards me. “Brad, this is my partner Delaney. Delaney, this is Brad. He’presenting tomorrow.”

When I turned to shake Brad’s hand, I saw the man from the elevator lingering in the hall. My heart started to beat faster.

It’s nothing. People are allowed to walk in hallway, I admonished myself.

We made plans to join Brad and a number of the presenters for drinks before dinner.

Once we were in our room, I locked the door, and put the security latch in place.

“Did you notice the guy in the elevator?” I asked Max.

He looked at me, thinking.  “Maybe?” he said.

“Did you notice that he got off on the same floor as us?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe?”

“And did you see him in the hall? Lurking?”

He shook his head.  

“No, I was talking to Brad. Why?”

“He seemed kind of shady, that’s all.”

“Do you want to call Detective Waits?”

“I don’t know. What if I’m imagining things. There are other people who have rooms on this floor,” I said.

“Yes, that’s true. But I know them all. They’re all part of the conference. I didn't recognize the guy in the elevator.”

“Maybe he was visiting someone?” I considered. “You know what, I’m going to call Detective Waits, and see what she says."

Detective Waits answered after three rings. I explained what I had seen, and told her that I was feeling a bit uneasy.

“It might just be nerves,” I said. “But I thought I should call you, anyways.”

“Good call,” she said. “I’ll come back to the hotel and have a look around. We can meet in your room.”

When she got there, she wasn’t alone.

“This is my partner, Detective Carlos Ito,” she said as they walked into our room. 

We sat on the couch, and I told them what I had seen.

“Hmmm,” said Ito. “It sounds fishy.” He looked at Max. “And you didn’t recognize him”

Max shook his head.

“Do you think he heard you talking about going to the pool?” asked Waits.

“Probably,” I said. “He was right behind us, and we weren’t whispering.”

“Okay,” she said. “This is what we’ll do. You go down to the pool, like you planned, and we’ll stay here in the room. If he’s looking for something, he’ll wait until you leave to search the room. If he’s after you, specifically, Delaney, he’ll wait in the room until you get back. Either way, he’s coming to this room. And when he does, we’ll be waiting for him.”

Max and I changed into our bathing suits and coverups and headed to the pool. When we got there, I spied the man from the elevator sitting in the corner. I probably wouldn’t have noticed him except that he was sitting in his street clothes. The pool was an indoor pool, and air was hot and humid. He had to be sweating.  

“Psst! Look! Look! Over there!” I whispered to Max. “It’s him!” I nodded my head as unobtrusively as possible in the man's general direction.

We were not the only people in the pool area, so I didn’t feel threatened — safety in numbers and all that. I casually walked over to the side of the pool, sat down on the edge, making sure not to look at the man from the elevator. I stuck my feet in the water, and swirled them around. Max sat beside me. 

Trying not to stare, I watched as the man got up, and left the pool area.

I whipped out my phone and called Detective Waits.

“The guy from the elevator was just here, in the pool area. Once he saw us, he left.”

She thanked me, and hung up.

“Should we go back up to our room?” I asked Max.

“I don’t know. We don’t want to spook him.”

“But we should go,” I said. “We might have to identify him, or something.”

I got out of the pool, and dried off my legs, slipped on my sandals, and we headed towards the exit. I stuck my head around the corner to make sure that he wasn’t in the hall waiting for the elevator.  

“All clear!”

We walked briskly to the elevator, and pushed the button. It took forever for the car to arrive — okay, maybe thirty seconds — but it felt like forever. We pushed six, and rode in silence. When we got to the sixth floor, I stuck my head out, scanning the hall. I don’t know what I expected, but the hall was empty.

I turned to Max. “All clear. Let’s go.”

As we neared our room, we could hear voices coming from inside. I knocked, and Detective Ito answered. He just looked at me, blankly.

“Why are you here?” he asked, deadpan.

“You know, in case the guy came up. Maybe you needed me to identify him, or something.”

He said nothing, just opened the door wider, letting us enter.

“That’s him!” I said, pointing to the man in handcuffs, sitting on the office chair.

Detective Waits nodded.  “He broke into the room, and we nabbed him.”

I looked at the man.

“Why?”

He said nothing, just looked away.

“We’re waiting for a patrol car to take him to the station. Then Detective Ito and I need to get your statements.” She looked at us in our pool clothes. “Uh, in the meantime why don’t you get changed into your street clothes.” She pointed at the handcuffed man. “Mr. Dymont should be out of our hair in a few minutes.”

While we were changing in the bedroom (we had a suite because we’re fancy), we heard someone knock on the door, heard some talking, then the door opening and closng. When we walked out of the room, Waits and Ito were alone.

Waits looked at me. “So, can you think of any reason that people are trying to get to you?”

I shook my head. By now if was more than obvious that it was me they were after — not just random street crime, not just a generic hotel robbery — it was me. I was the target. But why?

Waits took a phone out of an evidence bag.  

“Mr. Dymont had a photo of you on his phone. It looks like it was taken at the scene of the bus assault. We’re trying to track the number it came from, but it’s probably a burner.”

I shook my head in bewilderment.  “I have no idea why anyone is after me.”

“Okay,” said Waits. “Tell me everything you did today. From the moment you got up, until the assault on the bus.”

I sat on the couch across from the detectives, Max by my side. It took about fifteen minutes, but I was pretty sure that I had covered everything that had happened to me earlier in the day.

“So, it was after you realized that you were going to be late to meet up with Mr Isaacs” she nodded his way, “that you had your first encounter with your bus assailant?”

“Yes.” 

How many assailants did one person need? I wondered, but kept my thoughts to myself.

“Okay. Good.” She smiled as she looked at me. “Can you open your phone for me please.”

I was confused, but I did as she asked.

*****

Ito and Waits looked through the one-way glass at the man sitting in the interrogation room, flanked by his lawyer.  

“So, how’d you know?” asked Ito.

“Well,” Waits said. “Ms. Isaacs had been walking around for a couple of hours. It was only after taking a selfie on Queen Street that the assaults started. I figured she’d taken a picture of someone or something that she shouldn’t have. But she had no idea. Whoever or whatever it was, the people involved could not take the chance that she would post the pic online. They needed to get her phone.”

“That makes sense,” he said, nodding.

“When I looked at her photos, in particular, the last couple, I saw none other than Mace Tews standing right behind her. He was in three separate photos.”

“I didn’t even recognize him. Funny how losing fifty pounds and dying your hair changes your appearance.”

“Ah, but not the people you associate with. I recognized Dymont in the photo, and concentrated on who else was there. That’s how I recognized Tews.”

“Good thing the other guy … What’s his name?”

“Phenton,” said Waits.

“Yeah, Fenton was stupid enough to use his own phone to call Dymont. And that big ass bruise on his chin was a dead give away that he was the guy from the bus. Ms. George got in a good kick.”

“I think they said his jaw was broken.”

“Ahh. Sad face," said Ito.

Both detectives smiled.

“So, what next?” asked Ito.

“Well, Tews has been on the most wanted list for, what, seven years? And now he’s not. We have him in custody. Murder times two, plus the arson. No way he’s making bail. Or his cronies.”

“We were lucky. If you hadn't figured out it was her selfies that were causing all the commotion, we’d only have Dumont on illegal entry.”

“True," she said, nodding. "And in other good news — because it was her selfies that led to the arrest, Delany Isaacs is eligible for the two hundred and fifty thousand dollar reward.” Waits smiled, and looked at Ito. “And she can buy herself a new bag,” she sad.