“You are not going to believe this, Gab!”
“Well hello to you too. The trip is going very well, thanks.”
“Yeah, that’s good. Listen! You are not going to believe this!”
“So you said. What is it I’m not going to believe?”
“I think that maybe she’s a hooker!”
“What?!”
“Well, technically, I guess you would call her a call girl because she met rich-looking guys at the best hotels in Philly. She went in, met them in either the lobby or the lounge, got into the elevator with them and then left again, usually about a half an hour or an hour later. She met four different guys in four different hotels.”
“Are you sure that’s what she’s doing?”
“No. Maybe she’s a freelance chambermaid.”
“Oh wow. Why would Marla be hooking if her family’s rich?” I wondered out loud.
“Maybe they cut her off.”
“That’s an interesting idea. That would make her pretty desperate to land a rich husband, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe even desperate enough to try to scare off someone’s girlfriend.”
“Hmm. I wonder if Marla’s as crazy as everyone thinks she is.”
“We eventually followed her to a drag club called Gili’s Cabaret.”
“Wait! Gili’s Cabaret? That place is supposedly associated somehow with those parties!”
“Well, that makes sense because we saw a flyer for one in there.”
“A flyer? They advertise underground sex parties with flyers?”
“Hey, it’s a business. They might have a Facebook page for all we know. Anyway, there is a party next weekend. And it’s a costume party. You’re supposed to dress up like your favorite sexual fantasy.”
“Well, we can figure out what fantasy a naughty boy might be into.”
“So do you think Marla, the call girl, goes to these parties?”
“Supposedly some pros do, but I don’t want to put all our eggs in one basket. I think we should still treat her as a separate mission, especially since she lives right here in the city.”
“Okay, I hear you. I have to admit to you, Gabrielle, Cam and I have been having fun.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, this is actually kind of exciting. Should we watch her again?”
“I guess so. Maybe we can figure out a way to leave a note for her to reply to at one of these hotels or something.”
“We’re on it,” she said, and hung up.
My mom and I sat down to talk for a little while and she made it clear in no uncertain terms that she and my dad approved of Braden. Dad and Braden got home about a half an hour later and they seemed to be happily bonding. All was well at the Ginsberg residence. Then my dad went to check the mail.
“Gabby! Come here, honey!” he called out in a weird tone of voice. Braden and I glanced at each other and went to meet him in the entranceway. I saw that my dad was holding a letter of some sort.
“What is it?” I asked warily.
“It’s a letter for you, but there’s no return address and no postage.”
“Can I see that?” Braden asked.
“Sure.” Dad held it out to Braden.
“You hold on to it and tear it open carefully. I’ll come over and look over your shoulder. If it’s something suspicious we don’t want too many sets of fingerprints on it,” said Braden, the prosecutor. My dad did exactly what Braden asked. My mind was racing. Maybe it was some kind of marketing gimmick. When I got closer my hopes were dashed as I saw that the handwriting was familiar. It said, “You should stay away from him! Something very bad could happen if you don’t!”
“What the hell?!” my father exclaimed.
“What’s going on?” my mom asked, coming in from the kitchen.
“Gabby got a threatening letter!”
“From who?!”
“It’s not signed and there’s no return address.”
“Oh my God!”
“Mom! Don’t worry! It’s probably some kind of a stupid joke.”
“Threatening someone is funny?”
“It may not even be meant as a threat. It’s completely ambiguous. You can’t tell if they’re trying to warn me off because they like me, or trying to warn me off because they don’t.”
“The fact that there’s no stamp means it obviously didn’t come with the rest of the post. It must have been hand delivered,” Braden added, making even me a little weirded out. If this had been a movie, lightning would have streaked across the sky and thunder would have boomed just as he said that.
“Who even knew you were here?” my dad asked.
“Just our closest friends and Braden’s family. Nobody else and I’m sure that none of them would play this kind of joke.” I told myself firmly that it couldn’t be Cam.
“We need to report this to the police,” Braden said, sounding authoritative.
“Yes! Of course!” my father agreed. “Maybe the FBI too. If someone followed her here they crossed state lines.”
“Let’s not go crazy here, J. Edgar,” I said, rapidly feeling like this situation was getting out of control. After all, it wasn’t a death threat – at least not an explicit one. Maybe my job had made me a little numb to crime but this just didn’t feel all that serious to me.
“Gabby, this sounds threatening to me and I would rather be safe than sorry,” my mom, who had come over to read the letter, chimed in.
“I agree,” Braden added.
“That makes three of us,” my dad said. “You’re outvoted. We’re going to report it to the police and to the FBI. We’re also going to need to take precautions. We have an excellent, state of the art alarm system here. Gabby, you’re going to need something like that too.”
“I live in a secure building,” I reminded him.
“It couldn’t hurt. I’m buying you a dog too.”
“Dad, I don’t need a dog. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to have a dog in my building.”
“I’ll get her a dog,” Braden assured him.
“Thank you, Braden,” he said gratefully, patting him on the back affectionately.
“Oh my God.” I rolled my eyes.
“Of course you know that we want you two to stay together no matter what this crazy person says,” my mom said, looking almost imploringly at Braden.