Curse of the Dragon

by Madison Johns

Another server delivered my food and told me Mable was on a break. I slipped into the back and was directed outside, where Mable sat on a picnic table and stared into the distance. Of course the view was lousy as the back of the restaurant faced a row of dumpsters that reeked of last month’s garbage.

  “It can’t be healthy breathing in the putrid smell from the dumpsters,” I offered.

  Mable sighed as she stared over to me. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s bad for your lungs.”

  I stole a glance at the cigarette Mable held. “It’s not good for you either.”

  “I asked Penny to bring you your food.”

  I sat next to Mable and took her hand in mine as I gazed into her dim eyes. “What’s the matter, Mable?”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You should eat your hot wings before they get cold.”

  “You should take the rest of the day off,” I said.

  “I don’t work for my health, honey.” Mable smiled. “I’m just having a bad day is all.”

  I pulled out eighty bucks and handed it to Mable. “Tell your boss you need to go home.”

  Mable stared up at me, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Thanks, young lady,” the owner said. “I’m sending you home, Mable. You need to rest your back.”

  “Thank you, Alex. You’ve helped more than you know. I can’t turn the tables like the other servers can.”

  “If there’s anything I can do for you please ask.”

  “You’ve done enough, honey, and I can’t thank you enough.”

  I simply nodded and went back to my table before my emotions got the better of me.

  I sat at my table and ate my wings, flames nearly shooting from my mouth. It can’t be healthy to put that much hot sauce on food. I slapped down money on the table and hurried out the door, half expecting a fireball to erupt at any moment. I wasn’t sure how much control I might have over the fire, but I sure hoped it wouldn’t happen in public.

  I stopped at the gas station I frequent and bought a bottle of water.

  “How you doing today,” I asked the young man behind the register. He was dark skinned with dark hair, and plenty of boyish charm. He rang up my water and smiled. “Only the water today?”

  I scanned the counter that was packed with cigarillos and lighters.

  “I’m good. Have a nice day,” I said. Maybe I wasn’t such a grump after all.

  I saw Nate working the gas pump and walked to his car. “Not working at the car wash today?” I asked.

  “I thought I’d stalk you instead since I haven’t seen you since you were at the car wash the other day. Did you forget about our date at Starbucks this morning?” He flashed his white teeth.

  Nate’s dark hair curled at the nape of his neck and his biceps flexed as he blocked the sun from his eyes. If only he weren’t so young.

  “I haven’t been jogging since the murder near the trail I use.”

  “Any news on that front?”

  “What makes you think I’d know anything about it?”

  “I know you’re friends with Detective Blake.”

  “We’re more of acquaintances. There’s no need to be jealous,” I saucily said.

  “It’s too bad my social life is so full,” he joked. “We could have dinner.”

  “With your parents, no thanks.” I waved at the redhead who was seated in Nate’s convertible. I could turn to stone with the frosty stare she cast me. “Have fun, but not to much fun if you get my drift.” I smiled as I hopped into my car and tore off down the road.

  I headed to the address the werewolf had given to the tip line, where a large house was set back off the main street. How ironic that I’d have to drive through the woods to reach the house. Thoughts of the Big Bad Wolf came to mind.

  I walked up the broken stairs and knocked on the door that was nearly cracked in half and hanging from the hinges. Maybe a werewolf really did live here.

  A waif of a woman answered the door and waved me inside without so much as asking who I was.

  “I assume you’re here from the police department to take me in,” a deep voice asked as he stepped from the shadows.

  The voice belonged to a muscular man with a thick neck and shoulder-length blond hair. His intense amber eyes searched mine.

  “Sorry, I’m not a cop. I came here to ask you a few questions about the tip line call.”

  “Hannah, could you please pick me up T-bone steaks from the butcher? I forgot to ask you earlier.”

  Hannah simply nodded and donned a floppy hat and strode out the door. I worried about her working for a werewolf. She was so slight of frame and appeared very fragile.

  Once Hannah left, the man said, “Hannah’s my sister. I hope we can keep her out of this.”

  “I’m a private investigator working with Detective Blake. Alex Frost,” I introduced myself. “And I’d rather keep this between us too.”

  The man nodded. “I’m Bobby Hackman.”

  My brow shot up. “As in NFL quarterback Bobby Hackman?”

  “As in former NFL quarterback. These days I prefer to stay closer to home.”

  I hadn’t recognized him, but the only time I saw him during a game he wore a helmet. He certainly had packed on the pounds since then though he was still in great shape. “Why’d you retire?”

  “My sister needed me. She’s sickly, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Honestly I didn’t. She’s very small-boned.”

  “She has a rare skin disorder. But she’s been a huge help to me.”

  “Chains you up on the full moon?” I asked as serious as I could.

  “You don’t believe I’m a werewolf, do you?”

  I sighed, busted. “Sorry, but I don’t believe in werewolves, pixies, fairies, vampires, Bigfoot or mages.” I opted to leave out dragons.

  “Follow me. I’ll prove it.”

  I swallowed hard. “Why not?”

  I followed Bobby along a hallway and down a flight of stairs. Alarms should have sounded, but interestingly enough they didn’t.

  We entered a finished basement with hardwood floors. It smelled of pinecones and I noted the scratch marks on the floor as we neared a closed door.

  Bobby opened the door and I glanced inside the padded room, where chains were attached to the wall. Claw marks marred the padded walls and the stuffing hung loose.

  “You lock yourself here during the full moon?”

  “Hannah locks me in.” He tapped the steel door. “This door is impossible to penetrate even if I was able to get out of the restraints.”

  “Then how were you able to kill the victim in the mountains?”

  “Hannah was late getting home. I had to leave. I’d never forgive myself if I harmed my sister.”

  Apparently he had some control. “Is that why the door is half torn off?”

  “I haven’t gotten around to fixing it.”

  “What makes you think you killed the victim?”

  “I was covered in blood when I woke the next morning.”

  “Maybe you have a taste for deer meat.”

  “It makes sense, don’t you think? The victim was murdered on the full moon. I tracked pine needles in the house.”

  “Do you have evidence of the blood you were covered with?”

  Bobby pulled a towel from a hamper. It was stained with a brown substance.

  “And you saved the towel?”

  “I forgot about it until I heard about the murder. It was only right that I came forward.”

  “Can you remember anything about the murder?”

  “I never retain my memory when I’m out. I mean when the beast takes over.”

  “So what makes you so certain you did this?”

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “It’s a coincidence. And unless the blood on this towel matches the victim’s, you’re an innocent man.”

  Bobby grabbed my upper arms and pulled me toward him. “Why can’t you believe I’m a
werewolf?”

  “Werewolves certainly aren’t terrorizing the residents of Westland.”

  “Not that you know of.”

  “Could you please release me?” I asked loudly.

  “Sorry,” Bobby said as he let go. “I should come down and let the cops interrogate me.”

  “Look, I can’t sell you being a werewolf to Detective Blake. We’ll both get thrown in the looney bin, and I’m bordering on crazy as it is.”

  “I can prove I’m a werewolf if you come back on the next full moon.”

  “It’s a nice offer, but how about we stick with checking to see if the blood on the towel matches the victim’s?”

  I walked back up the stairs and nearly bumped into Hannah, who was standing outside the basement door. There was something about her pale skin and strange eyes that freaked me out.

  “You startled me,” I said.

  Hannah stared at the towel in my hand.

  She tried to snatch it from me. “I forgot to wash that towel.”

  “Your brother told me I could take it.”

  Bobby joined me upstairs. “Let her leave, Hannah.”

  “She can’t take that towel,” Hannah insisted.

  “I gave it to her.”

  Hannah shook her head at her brother. “I won’t allow it.”

  I glanced between the siblings and moved toward the door. All the tiny hairs at the back of my neck prickled and I had to will myself not to run to my car.

  I managed to squeeze behind the wheel before Hannah and Bobby surfaced from the house. I waved and sped out of the driveway before Hannah made a move to stop me. It didn’t nearly bother me as much thinking that Bobby was a werewolf as it did that at any moment Hannah would stop me from leaving. I laughed nervously all the way back into town. Hannah was certainly a strange one.

  I tossed the dry towel on Blake’s desk and dropped into a chair. “You should check to see if the blood on this towel matches the victim’s,” I said.

  Blake’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Where did you get this?”

  “How about you have it checked and then I’ll tell you where I got it if it’s a match.”

  Blake eased back in his chair. “Let me guess. You got this from the werewolf.”

  “The alleged werewolf.”

  He rolled his eyes as he slipped the towel into an evidence bag. “I suppose it’s worth checking, but I don’t buy the whole werewolf scenario.”

  “You’ll never guess who the werewolf is,” I said as I cocked a brow. When Blake only stared blankly at me, I added, “Bobby Hackman -- as in the former NFL quarterback.”

  Blake popped two pills from his drawer. “You have to be kidding.”

  “You should have seen his padded room in the basement. There were steel restraints. He claims he’s the real deal and actually told me I should come back on the next full moon so he could prove he was a werewolf.”

  “I hope you politely refused?”

  “No, but I will if I ever speak to him again. There’s something about his sister that alarmed me.”

  “I can’t believe that. You’re not intimidated by anyone.”

  “I didn’t think so either until I met her.”

  “I’ll get this down to forensics. Where you headed to next?”

  “I thought I’d head over to Naughty Divas. I heard it’s amateur night.” I winked.

  “I should tag along to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Sure thing.” Wait until Blake finds out it’s amateur night for male dancers. It was going to be an interesting afternoon.

  Thirteen

  I greeted the doorman when we arrived at the strip club. “Admission is a ten spot,” he said without looking at me.

  “We’re here for amateur night,” I said.

  “You still have to pay admission.”

  Blake paid and we were directed to the bar.

  The raven-haired male bartender wore a banana hammock and not much else. Blake cleared his throat when my eyes got lost on the man’s oiled chest.

  “You here for amateur night?” the Greek god asked.

  “I haven’t talked him into it yet.” I smiled. “Come on, Blake, it will be fun. I’ve always thought of you as the pole dancing type.”

  Blake scanned the crowd of rowdy women who were fixated on the stage as a man humped the pole. He gnashed his teeth as he said, “Not when I’m the one dancing.”

  “We were at the drag show the other night,” I said. “I missed the show thanks to a disturbance. And we came all the way to Westland to see Andromeda perform.”

  “Cops roughed up poor Earle from what I heard.”

  “He started it,” Blake said. “Probably wouldn’t have gone to jail if he hadn’t tried to beat up the cops.”

  “Serves them right coming here and interrupting the show. The drag queen show is the most popular.”

  “Other than tonight, I’d guess,” I said with gleam in my eye. Women went nuts at male stripper shows.

  “Do you know Andromeda?” Blake asked.

  “Not the way you think. She’s a favorite when she performs.”

  “He didn’t mean you know her personally,” I said. “I really need to speak with her. She promised to teach me how she does her makeup. I might know someone who wants to be a drag queen.”

  Blake stepped on my foot and applied pressure before I shot him a look.

  “I can’t give out her personal information, but check out Top of the Hill. It’s a swanky hair salon she works at.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  We moved to the door and Blake jumped as an elderly woman in a wheelchair grabbed his rear.

  Her upper dentures popped into her lap as she said, “Just how I like it, nice and firm!”

  Blake practically dragged me outside, and I giggled all the way back to the car.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he snapped.

  “Immensely.” I then gave Blake directions to the hair salon.

  Top of the Hill was exactly that, at the top of a hill in the south of the city. We walked through the french doors and were offered a glass of wine by a woman carrying a tray.

  Blake declined a glass, but I didn’t. “How nice,” I said. “Is Andromeda working today?”

  The woman bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, but she’s all book up.”

  Sure enough I spotted Andromeda, who was poured into a white flowing dress with a black belt. Her blond wig was in place, as were high heels as she pumped up the barber chair.

  I walked over and watched as Andromeda clipped a woman’s hair. She popped a glance at me and said, “I’m busy.”

  “We only need a moment of your time.”

  “Wait for me in the lounge.”

  I shrugged as Blake and I entered a darkened lounge that offered a buffet of snacks. I filled a plate with carrots and vegetable dip and sat at a table with Blake.

  “This is nice,” I said.

  “Be lucky if you don’t receive a bill for the snacks and wine.”

  “It’s complimentary,” a woman cradling a wine bottle said. “Care for a refill?”

  “No,” Blake snapped.

  “No need to yell at her,” I scolded him. “He meant to bark at me instead. I’m still nursing this wine, thank you.”

  “You shouldn’t be drinking,” Blake told me. “We’re working.”

  “I’m not a cop. I’m a private investigator, one who is allowed to drink one glass of wine.”

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace on his face. “I haven’t slept well since this case began. I never expected a murder like this to happen in Westland.”

  “Have you identified the victim yet?”

  “Not much to go on I’m afraid.”

  “You must have found something of interest, a wallet, tattoos?”

  “We’ll touch base with the medical examiner after we’re done here. I’m hoping she has some answers.”

  “If we knew who it was
, we might be able to find a suspect.”

  “The only one I know who was near the scene of the crime that morning is you.”

  “Am I a suspect?” I asked.

  “Hard to eliminate you unless I learn the murder happened before your morning jog.”

  Blake was saved when Andromeda sashayed into the room. If she wasn’t six feet tall I would have sworn she really was Marilyn Monroe. The resemblance was uncanny. Well, up until she spoke in a husky voice, “You’ll have to make it quick. I have exactly ten minutes before my next client arrives.”

  “I’m Detective Blake and this is a private investigator. She likes it when people call her Alex.”

  Andromeda narrowed her eyes. “You here to bust me?”

  “Do you have a warrant?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

  “Of course not.” She smiled. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

  I glanced nervously at the other customers in the lounge.

  “Scram.” Andromeda said to the customers. “They’re from the health department and I just know you’d rather not learn the specifics of my condition.”

  The customers ran from the room like frightened gazelles.

  Andromeda laughed as she sat down. “That always gets them moving.”

  “Won’t it hurt your customer base if word gets around that you have a mystery ailment?” I asked with a smirk.

  “My customer base is solid.”

  “So you’re a drag queen at Naughty Divas and here ?” Blake asked.

  “I love performing. Drag queens are very popular since Ru Paul’s shows.”

  “I certainly have an appreciation for them,” I agreed.

  “Can we please get to what happened at the club the other night,” Blake spat.

  “We’ll do whatever you want, honey,” Andromeda purred to Blake.

  I would have liked to high-five Andromeda for unsettling Blake, as he swallowed hard.

  “Was you the one who told the psychics Bigfoot was in the club the night he was arrested?” I asked.

  “How do you know Wilma and Gracie?” Andromeda asked.

  “They’re helping with a case,” I said.

  “They certainly are not,” Blake said as he shot me a look.

  “Anyway,” I added, “apparently, Wilma and Gracie were under the impression that Bigfoot or Earle might be a suspect in a recent murder.”