Drink, Dance, Divorce

by Charles Alworth

  The lieutenant didn't speak. He thrust a document at her. Her smile faded. She took it, sat at her desk, and read it. Her head sunk to the desk and rested on the paper.

  Waltz pointed at it. "What have you done to her?"

  "It's a court order seizing the studio for illegal drug traffic."

  "Drug traffic? We don't deal drugs."

  The lieutenant smiled. "The little pills you put in your brother's drink."

  Lala raised her head. "I cooperate. I do everything you ask. Why you do this?"

  ***

  After the lieutenant locked them out of the studio, they went home to Lala's house. Lala collapsed on the couch, at the far end, her elbow on the couch arm, and her chin in her palm, staring.

  Waltz perched on the opposite end of the couch. "The cops have no right to take the studio. We'll get a lawyer."

  "Those lawyers. They are vampire bats. They suck our blood. We no find the stash. We no have money."

  "I don't believe Jazz had a stash."

  "This is your fault. I beg you. Go to Mexico. I stay behind, sell the studio, and collect the insurance. We could live like kings. Now the cops lock us out of our own studio. We can never sell it. Why wouldn't you go to Mexico?"

  "I have to catch Jazz's killer."

  "Yeah. Chase your tail."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "You no can catch yourself. I know you do it. No need to pretend for me. I am glad you poison him. You do it to protect me. I love you for it."

  "How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't do it."

  She slid down the couch and put her arms around his neck. "I love you, baby. Understand? Admit it. Tell me you did it. I would still love you - more even. Lovers no have secrets. If you love me, tell me you do it."

  "I didn't do it. He's my brother."

  She kissed his neck. She stroked his thigh. "You drive me crazy, the way you deny it. Tell me you do it and let's go to bed."

  "But I didn't do it."

  She drew back and studied him. "I no love a man who no tell me the truth, man who no do things for me."

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him off the couch. She dragged him through the living room, shoved him out, and slammed the door.

  ***

  Later that evening, Waltz got in Hook 'Em's van.

  Her Hook 'Em sign wilted. "That's an Aggie cap! You can't wear an Aggie cap in my van." She snatched the cap off his head. His hair sprang like a rattlesnake. She covered her eyes. She handed him his cap. "Put it back on!"

  He snugged it down.

  "No! Put it on backwards. I can't bear that symbol of all that's loathsome."

  He reversed it. "You through with your fun?"

  "I can't tell. The urge to humiliate you may overwhelm me at any moment."

  He told her about the confiscation of the studio.

  "They're closing in. You'd better let me get you that passport."

  "No. I promised Jazz."

  "It's your ass." She stopped at a light. "Passport, going, going..."

  "No."

  She shook her head. "Counting your extra half day, I'm working with you till tomorrow at noon. Then you're on your own. Unless..."

  "Unless what?"

  "Unless you can pay me."

  "I have no money."

  "We need to find Jazz's stash. You could pay me out of that."

  "We've searched everywhere. I don't think there is a stash. He must've gambled it all away."

  "We can't give up. Keep thinking. Make a list."

  ***

  Rachel kept staring at his cap, but she was too polite to comment. He could probably bare his startling new hairdo and she would reassure him that it looked fine. But he wasn't going to. He was going to keep his cap jammed on his head. The cap and his hair would remain constant companions until the next day, when the curls would be gone.

  Hook 'Em nodded her head, urging him to get started. He hated to accuse Rachel. She was his friend. "You know, Rachel, I know this couldn't be true, but - "

  Hook 'Em stomped her foot.

  Waltz handed Rachel the letter.

  She read it. "Jazz and me? That's ridiculous. There was never anything between me and Jazz. He didn't even like me."

  Hook 'Em's smile showed superior knowledge. "The letter says he liked you a lot."

  Rachel drew herself up. "He fired me. I don't think he'd fire me if we were lovers."

  Hook 'Em was calm. "You broke up with him and then he fired you."

  "No way."

  "Why'd he fire you?"

  "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

  Hook 'Em leaned forward. "You were at Jazz's table that night. You were mad about being fired. We know you have a prescription for sleeping pills. You dropped them in his drink."

  Rachel turned to Waltz. "You know I didn't poison Jazz. I wouldn't poison your brother."

  Hook 'Em bored in. "You had motive. So he's Waltz's brother? Why should that stop you?"

  "Because I? because Waltz and I? are friends."

  Waltz broke in. He couldn't stand it. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I know you didn't do it."

  ***

  Back in the van, Hook 'Em slapped the steering wheel. "You're going to have to get tougher. You're not going to find out who poisoned Jazz by apologizing. You've got to accuse them and watch their reactions, judge whether they're telling the truth. If they're lying, you know who to investigate. You get more evidence. Confront them again. You break them. That's how you do it."

  "I believe Rachel. I think Olivia made up the letter herself."

  "You've got to be careful about ignoring evidence and eliminating suspects. You eliminate the wrong one, then you're running around in circles, chasing innocent people. Rachel is a strong possibility."

  "Rachel is too sweet to kill anybody."

  "She had motive. Jazz fired her."

  Maybe Hook 'Em was right. He should've pressed Rachel.

  Hook 'Em started the van. "We talk to Doc tomorrow morning. I want you to accuse him, bore in, be relentless. And remember, we've got to find the stash or you're on your own."

  ***

  Doc coughed. He lit a cigarette. His hands shook.

  Waltz never saw him before in the morning. Did he always look like he had a hangover? How could his patients have any confidence in him?

  Waltz's hair was threatening to erupt from under his cap and take over the world. Olivia said the curls would be gone by morning. She lied. If anything, they were worse. They'd never go away.

  At least he had hair. Doc was bald. Waltz touched his backwards Aggie cap. His hair pushed back reassuringly.

  Smoke billowed from Doc's nose and mouth. It always did. From the way he gaped at Hook 'Em, smoking hadn't reduced his sex drive. He was really old, too. Late fifties.

  The smoke wafted past Waltz's nose. He started to scoop the fragrance toward his face, hesitated, and fanned it away. It was a simple matter of willpower. He would ignore it. He would never smoke again.

  Hook 'Em poked Waltz in the ribs and glared at him.

  He couldn't confront Doc. Doc was a nice guy. Waltz cleared his throat. "Doc, we're trying to find out who poisoned Jazz. What do you know about it?"

  Hook 'Em glared at him again.

  Doc leaned back in his swivel chair. He let the hand holding the cigarette dangle limply. Smoke spiraled upward. "I know you didn't poison Jazz. I feel bad about you having to go through this. Don't worry. You'll be cleared soon."

  Hook 'Em crossed her legs. Her free boot vibrated. "What makes you say that?"

  Doc raised his trembling hand to his lips and took another deep drag. He let go a satisfying plume of smoke that drifted toward the ceiling. "You're the prettiest private eye I've ever seen. Of course, the only ones I've seen have been on TV. You've got Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson both beat." He laughed. "That's a joke, sleuth."

  Hook 'Em's free boot vibrated faster. She didn't laugh. She didn't show a trace of a smile.

  "You're beautiful. You'd
make a great chorus girl. I like a chorus girl with boots."

  "You didn't answer my question."

  Doc was focused on Hook 'Em, not the question. How did he get to be a neurologist?

  Doc's eyes scanned Hook 'Em's boobs. "I've never fallen in love with a cowboy before."

  "You didn't answer my question."

  Doc's eyes rose to her face. "What was the question? Oh, yes, the question is, would you have dinner with me tonight?"

  "The question is, what makes you think that Waltz will be cleared soon?"

  "Oh. You spar with me?"

  "Why will Waltz be cleared soon?"

  "Because I know Waltz and Jazz. I know Waltz didn't do it. The cops will figure it out pretty soon."

  Hook 'Em drew back in her chair and considered him. "You think so? I've got a police source who tells me they're just waiting for Jazz to die. They'll arrest Waltz and charge him with capital murder. So far, we haven't found anything that would prove him innocent. If we don't find out something before Jazz dies, Waltz faces death."

  Doc's eyes seemed to snap into focus. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

  "It's bad - very bad. Waltz will be convicted and executed."

  Doc leaned back in his chair and took another long drag. He studied Hook 'Em's breasts. "Unless Justice rides in and saves the day."

  Hook 'Em took off her hat and fanned herself. "That's too abstract for me. Make things clear."

  Doc grinned at her. "I'll get a reservation for two at the Longhorn Inn tonight, best restaurant in town. Is that clear enough?"

  "Go back to abstractions."

  Doc's gaze swung back to Waltz. "Don't worry. You'll be cleared soon."

  At last, a breakthrough. Waltz couldn't believe it. "You know who did it?"

  "Yes."

  A detective's job wasn't so difficult. "Who?"

  Doc looked back at Hook 'Em. "I'll reveal 'who done it' to the lady here at dinner."

  Hook 'Em's face crashed into an intense frown. "Tell me now."

  "At dinner. For dessert."

  "Now! Don't you understand? Jazz could die any minute. Waltz faces death."

  Doc walked around his desk, took Hook 'Em's hand, and patted it. "All in good time, my dear."

  Hook 'Em flung his hand away. She stomped out and slammed the door.

  ***

  In the van, Waltz took Hook 'Em's hand. "I think Doc knows who did it."

  She pulled her hand away. "Forget that. He knows nothing. Even if he did, I wouldn't go out with him. Let me see your list of places for Jazz's stash."

  "I couldn't come up with any."

  A motorist darted in front of her and skidded, tires squealing, into the exit. She gave him the finger. She let the finger swing on around until it aimed at Waltz. "You realize you're screwed." She pumped the finger. "Without the stash you're screwed."

  "I don't think he had a stash."

  "I'll have to leave you on your own then, after this last interview." She studied him. "Think about it. You're on your own. You face murder charges. Think. Where could the money be?"

  "I don't know."

  She slapped his knee. "You have it. Don't you?"

  "No. I don't have it."

  "Why save it? It's not going to do you any good when they strap you to the gurney. Tell Lala where it is. Y'all take it to Mexico. Y'all could live great down there."

  "I doubt that it even exists. I think Lala wished it up."

  They rode in silence for a while.

  Waltz held out his hand. "Can I borrow your cell?"

  "Again?" She grabbed her cell and pretended to backhand it out the window. She sighed and handed it over.

  He dialed Lala. Busy. She had it off the hook. He held out the cell to Hook 'Em.

  "Hold on to it. I know you're going to dial again in two minutes."

  ***

  Yvette's mother opened the door. "You!" Her hand went to her throat. She slammed the door. The chain rattled.

  The door reopened the length of the chain. "Go away. Yvette doesn't want to see you. Ever again."

  Hook 'Em pushed Waltz aside. "I'm a detective. We need your daughter's help to put this scumbag away, so he'll never bother anybody again."

  "You're a detective?"

  "Yes. Don't worry about this scumbag. He's cuffed." She held up Waltz's hands. "See?"

  Yvette's mother smiled. "I guess it would be okay, but be sure and keep an eye on him." She closed the door. The chain rattled. She opened the door and let them in. She called to the back. "Yvette, come here. You'll get a laugh out of this."

  Yvette's mother led them into the living room. She indicated a straight chair near the door. "Put him here."

  Hook 'Em shoved Waltz down on the chair. She pulled out Waltz's ankle cuffs, looped them around the chair rung, and cuffed Waltz's ankles.

  Yvette's mother admired the ankle cuffs. She led Hook 'Em to the couch.

  Yvette stopped in the back entrance to the room.

  Her mother went to her. "It's okay. Look at his wrists."

  Waltz held up his hands and waved at his former girlfriend. The chains clanked and glittered in the sun shining through the window.

  Yvette's mother pointed at his feet. "And his ankles."

  Waltz shuffled his feet and made the chains clatter.

  Yvette's mother beamed. "He can't put his hands on you now."

  Hook 'Em got up from the couch. "What do you know about this scumbag's motive for poisoning his brother?"

  Yvette remained in the doorway. "I don't want to talk about him. I don't even want to think about him."

  Hook 'Em took Yvette's hand. "Help us keep him off the streets. He's too dangerous to be out in polite society." She pulled Yvette toward the couch.

  Yvette yanked her hand away from Hook 'Em. "I tell you, I don't want to talk about him." She stared at Waltz. "He looks different, cuffed to a chair, wearing a cap."

  Hook 'Em laughed. "You got to see this." She strode across the room. Waltz clamped his hands over his cap. She gave him a murderous glare.

  Waltz released his hands.

  Hook 'Em swatted his cap. It flew off his head and rolled toward the door. She stepped to the side to display his hair. Waltz felt it uncoil, rising and swaying like a den of cobras.

  Hook 'Em beckoned Yvette. "Come a little closer. Take a good look."

  Yvette took a hesitant step and peered at Waltz. She began to laugh. "What did you do to it?"

  Hook 'Em went to her and pulled her two steps closer. "Sociopaths have very strong egos. It's what makes them sociopaths. He's charged with attempted murder, yet, instead of running, he stays in town and gets a permanent. It's unbelievable."

  She pulled Yvette a step closer. "Look. See what happens to a perm fertilized by the diseased brain of a sociopath."

  Yvette laughed at Waltz. Hook 'Em put an arm around her. "Have you got a camera? You could get a picture."

  Yvette picked up her cell and took a picture. She studied the image and laughed. She held it out to her mom. Her mom laughed.

  Yvette moved closer. "One more. These will look good on the studio bulletin board."

  Hook 'Em watched over Yvette's shoulder. "Let me see those." She studied the pictures. "You know where else these pictures would look good? An abnormal psychology book." She laughed.

  She pulled Yvette over to the couch. "Help us put him away. Why do you think he poisoned his brother?"

  Yvette sneered at Waltz. "They were always arguing. He hated his brother. His brother accused him of poisoning his dog. I think he did."

  Waltz rattled his handcuffs. "You're the one that hated the dog. He was always tearing your hose."

  "Jazz tried to stop you from womanizing. You didn't, of course, but you resented Jazz for it."

  "I can prove you take sleeping pills like the ones that poisoned Jazz."

  "I never took sleeping pills until I started going with you. You had me up nights worrying about who you were flirting with."

  Bingo. She did have
pills. Hook 'Em was right. Accuse them. Make them defend themselves. They'd reveal more than they hid. "You were at the party. You had pills. It would be easy for you to poison his drink." He banged his chain on the chair. "She's the poisoner, Detective Harns."

  "No. I had no reason to poison him."

  "He told everybody at the studio you weren't good enough for me and he was right."

  "You think I took that serious? Nobody did. That's the biggest laugh I've ever heard. A worm is good enough for you."

  A woman paused in the hallway. "I'm sorry, Yvette. I didn't know you had company."

  "That's okay, Gloria. This is not company. This is the guy that poisoned his brother. I'm helping the cops convict him. Go on in the back with Mama. You don't want to know this guy. We'll be through in a minute."

  Gloria gawked at Waltz's cuffs. She backed away.

  She looked familiar. Yes, she was the sexy woman who was at the party. The one person Waltz didn't recognize. "Didn't she come to the party with you?"

  "Yes, but don't you go accusing my cousin of poisoning Jazz. She never met him."

  "Never met him. Ha!"

  "Ha! She lives in Vegas."

  Vegas. Bingo. Gloria could be the mob connection.

  Hook 'Em turned toward him. "You scumbag, leave Gloria out of this. She didn't know your brother. Stop trying to put this off on somebody else." She turned to Yvette. "What sort of work does Gloria do?"

  "Cocktail waitress in a casino."

  "Really? Which one?"

  "Caesar's."

  Hook 'Em threw up her hands. "I love Caesar's. That's where I stay when I'm in Vegas. I know a cocktail waitress there. I'll have to tell her I met Gloria. What's her last name?"

  "Longoria."

  "What's she doing here?"

  "Visiting. She comes here almost every year, and I go out there. We've always been close."

  Waltz didn't expect to get anything from talking to Yvette. Being a detective felt great when you found out something. Something important.

  ***

  He drove through the parking lot to the back door. He grinned.

  Her face showed surprise. "You're living here?"

  "It has a great dance floor. It's my new dance studio."

  "What happened to the old one?"

  "The landlord claimed I broke the lease by possessing illegal drugs on the premises."

  "I thought the cops dropped that charge."

  "They did. The landlord used it as an excuse. He found a tenant that was willing to pay more."

  "But why here?"

  "I can't sleep anywhere but behind the bar. I have a special mattress stuffed with tablecloths." He pulled a key out of his pocket with a flourish. He held it up. "Now that I own the place, I don't have to use a crowbar on the window." He unlocked the door and bowed her in with a sweeping gesture.