by Linda Ross
We moved on around the house, looking in windows as we went. The place was fantastic inside with modern furniture, mostly leather and chrome. There was a massive stone fireplace against one wall with an enormous television mounted above it. Everything in the house looked oversize.
We had circled the house without seeing any sign of life. “Let’s check the garage,” I said.
It was a four-vehicle affair that could house a Dollar General. There was one small high window on the side, but I wasn’t tall enough to look in. “Let me boost you up,” I told Thelma.
She gave me a hard look, but stepped onto my laced hands, and I slowly raised her up. “Good thing I lift weights,” I said. “You’re heavier than you look.”
“Mmmnf,” she muttered.
“So what did you see?” I asked when she jumped back down.
“A lot of yard equipment, some big planters and a black Lexus.”
“So someone should be home,” I said.
Thelma shrugged. “Maybe they’re a three-car family.”
We got in the car and drove back down the drive. Thelma got out and closed the gate, looked in the brick mailbox, then the opening for the newspaper.
“One letter,” she said. “Looked like a bill from an online wine company. And last Friday’s newspaper. None since then.”
“That’s strange.”
The police car was still sitting at Kara’s place when we went by, which was another strange thing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I dropped Thelma at her place, then went home to change into something more appropriate for a club of female impersonators. I knew it was a lost cause. No matter what I wore, they were all going to look better than I did. I picked up Thelma, and we headed across the river.
The club was tucked away in a strip of small businesses across from a downtown park. A chalkboard sign out front advertised that it was amateur night. We stepped through the front door, an unassuming wooden one, and found ourselves in a bar. Lighting was low, and it took me a minute to take it all in. The bar ran the length of the left side of the room, and the rest of the place was filled with circular tables. The stage was directly in front of us with a red curtain behind it. Already there were several people seated at the tables. Most of them were young, predominantly male and a fair amount of them androgynous. And they all looked good. I glanced down at my green pants suit and decided I would keep my coat on. Of course Thelma looked classy as ever in a pencil skirt and silk blouse. She was wearing a nice wool jacket that she hung on the back of her chair.
A server came over to get our drink order, and it took me a minute to realize that it was a female server. Her hair was in a boy cut, and she wore a white shirt and black trousers. I ordered my usual whiskey sour and Thelma got a virgin Mary. I started laughing, but she didn’t seem to think it was funny. I guess I’d had enough to drink already that day, but a whiskey sour was appealing.
“Pssssst,” someone hissed from the stage, and I poked Thelma.
“We’re being hailed.”
It was Avery, poking his head around the curtain, a big happy smile on his face. He waved enthusiastically, and I waved back.
The server brought our drinks while I was waving at Avery, and she smiled. “Avril’s a real sweetheart. We’re all crazy about her.” I tried to picture Avery as a her but I couldn’t manage it. I agreed with the sweetheart part though.
Tables were filling up around us and the air was thick with chatter. Most of the clientele were men. But my mind kept going back to Stephanie Riley’s empty house. I suppose she and her husband could have been out, but why the one old newspaper in the box? That should have been brought inside days ago.
“You’re thinking about the murder, aren’t you?” Thelma asked.
I nodded. “So far the only vicious person we know of is Kara, and she’s the one who was killed.”
“Well, whoever killed her was at least as vicious. Two of a kind.”
“That’s certainly not comforting.”
We hadn’t had any dinner, so we each ordered a hamburger when the server came around again, and I switched to Diet Coke. I’d had enough Maraschino cherries for one day.
The lights dimmed, there was a drum roll, and our server came from behind the curtains to emcee. She had put on a tux. The first female impersonator was for all intents and purposes Liza Minnelli. The gamin haircut and makeup were perfect, and her legs looked great in fishnet stockings and sky-high red heels. I couldn’t have walked in those things, much less vamped. She moved around the tables as she sang, and people stuffed dollar bills under her garter or down her stocking. Thelma and I rooted in our purses and got out some ones since it seemed to be expected.
We got our chance when the next performer did Bette Midler. The Divine Miss M flounced from table to table, and Thelma and I each slid a dollar bill in her stocking.
There were a couple more performers and then Avril was announced. Avril wasn’t imitating anyone, just singing. And, to my surprise, Avery/Avril had a really nice voice. He belted out My Funny Valentine to the strains of a karaoke machine on stage. When he got to our table we stuffed as many bills as we could in his stocking. He had his leg propped on the empty chair between us, and I marveled at how silky his legs were. I had seen the guy with hair, and what he took off must have been enough to stuff a pillow. He was baby smooth everywhere.
Avery got a big round of applause, led by Thelma and me. About an hour later the show was over, and Avery came out in street clothes to sit with us. “You were great,” I told him. “Your voice is really good.”
“I know a choir that could use you,” Thelma said. “And you could wear a robe.”
Avery grinned and tossed his silky chestnut hair.
“Hey, good job tonight,” the emcee said. “Can I join you?”
Introductions were made, and her name was Chloe Danum. She worked at the bar on show nights, but her regular job was in Hannibal. She and her partner owned a small candy store downtown. Being a chocoholic, I was familiar with it.
“I’ve had many a great peanut cluster from there,” I said. “For Halloween, I bought a pound of your chocolate-covered marshmallows for the office.”
“Where do you work?”
“Thelma and I are from The Spyglass.”
“They did the story on me,” Avery said.
“Really? Did you work on that murder?”
“We’re still trying to get more information,” Thelma said.
“I ran into that Kara at a couple of parties,” Chloe said, and Thelma and I both perked up. “And she used to cut my partner’s hair once in a while. She was a real odd one. Kara, not my partner.”
“How do you mean?” I asked. I wondered if she was going to show me a scar or two from her encounters.
“Well, there’s this guy I know.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “David Henderson. We’re friends from back when we took a computer class together. He was older than the rest of us in class, and I didn’t know anything about computers, so we helped each other out.” She chewed her lower lip. “Don’t tell anyone else this, but he runs this kind of. . . club.”
“What kind of club?” I asked.
“It’s for people with different tastes, if you know what I mean.”
We didn’t, and Thelma and I looked at each other, baffled.
“It’s a B and D club,” Avery explained. “You know. Paddles, whips, handcuffs.”
I got the picture. “Where is it? I’ve never heard anything about it.”
“He has it in his house,” Chloe said. “It’s not an official business or anything. He doesn’t charge anyone any money and it’s just for fun. Like a hobby.”
Okay. So some people collected stamps and some people painted watercolors. And some people spent their free time handcuffing and whipping people. Actually, the more I thought about it the more people I could think of that I’d like to handcuff and whip.
“How did Kara fit into this?” I asked.
“She
found out about the club and started going. At first I guess it was all great. A lot of the men who go are looking for a woman to dominate them. And Kara knew how to do that really well. But I guess she started getting more and more kinky, and David had to ask her to leave.”
“I bet that didn’t go over well,” Thelma said.
“You can say that again. At one point she tried to burn down the house. David got the fire put out before it did any damage, and he didn’t actually see her set it. So the police couldn’t do anything.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Yeah, wow,” Thelma echoed. Then she surreptitiously crossed herself.
“Listen,” I said, “I’d really like to talk to David about Kara. Do you think you could ask him?”
It sounded like Thelma was saying Oh, dear God under her breath, but I ignored her. If Kara had tried to set fire to David’s house, he could be another suspect.
Chloe chewed her lip. “He’s gotten kind of funny about the club after Kara caused so much trouble. He doesn’t like to talk about it. I’m pretty sure he’d turn me down if I asked him to meet with you.” Then she brightened. “But you could go to one of the parties. They have them once a month and the next one is this Friday night.”
I couldn’t hear what Thelma was muttering under her breath, but I think it was a prayer since I heard the name Mary.
“Will they let me in?”
“Sure,” Chloe said. “David hires an off-duty police officer to make sure no one gets in who’s there for trouble, but they’re always glad to see new people, especially women. Get there early, before David’s hooked up with someone.”
That sounded promising. Thelma had her head in her hands, and Avery was tapping his long polished nails on the table. “Honey,” he said, “we have to do something about your wardrobe if you’re going to that party. Do you have a bustier?”
I wasn’t even sure I had a decent bra. “I don’t think so.”
“I thought as much. We need to work on the allure factor. Right, Chloe?”
Chloe nodded her head. “Maybe a short skirt. Go for the sophisticated sorority girl look. That’s one of David’s favorites.”
Avery nodded. “Leave it to me. What say we make a trip to Victoria’s Secret and Walmart tomorrow? I’ve got the day off.”
We made arrangements to meet on my lunch time the next day, and I told Avery again how great he looked tonight and well he sang. He actually blushed.
I think Thelma was praying all the way home.
“Why don’t you come with me to the party?” I said finally. “With two of us, they’d surely let us in.”
“Are you kidding me? Who knows what goes on at those kind of parties?”
“Well, an ex-nun probably wouldn’t. I’m sure it’s just a little naughty fun. Nothing serious.”
“You’re going to end up chained to the wall in some maniac’s basement,” Thelma said darkly.
“I really doubt that. At least come shopping with us tomorrow. I don’t want to look like a fool.”
Thelma snorted. “Nobody’s going to care what you’re wearing after the maniac chains you to the wall. He’ll take off your clothes anyway. He may leave the bustier on. That will look good in the police photos after they find your body.”
I decided not to answer that.
* * * * *
Eileen stopped by on her way to her gallery the next morning. I was fortifying myself with a few fun-size Snickers bars for breakfast. If they ever need a testimonial, I’m ready to state under oath that they are indeed a fun size.
“I brought you another puzzle,” Eileen said, setting a box on the kitchen table. “That’s not your breakfast, is it?”
“Pretty much so. Thanks for the puzzle, but I don’t think they work for me.”
“I guess not if you’re eating candy for breakfast.” She glanced around and saw the other puzzle on the coffee table. “What happened? Did you lose some of the pieces?” She walked over to the table and stared down at the misshapen mess. “Aretha, don’t you even know how to put together a puzzle?”
“I was impaired,” I said. “It could happen to anybody.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what you’re thinking sometimes,” she said in exasperation. “And you missed the meeting last night. We voted to rename the club. People thought Fat Blasters was too negative with the word fat in it. So now we’re the Slenderizers.”
“Sounds like the name of an expensive girdle,” I said.
“And you’d better have a good excuse for not coming last night,” she went on, “or you’re going to have to pay a fine.”
“I went to a female impersonator bar.”
Eileen just stared at me.
At least the people at work were more interested in what I’d done last night than Eileen was. Thelma had already told them about seeing Avery perform and they wanted details.
“What do the guys do with their junk?” Marybeth asked. “Don’t they wear skintight outfits?”
“They do, and I have no idea where they hide the jewels.”
Marybeth and JoAnn were still talking about the logistics of being a female impersonator when Thelma and I left for lunch.
We had just been served our order in the pub down the street when Rose walked in the door. She looked around, saw us, smiled and came over.
“Do you mind if I join you for a minute?” she asked. “I wanted to run something by you.”
Thelma slid over, and Rose sat down next to her.
“How are you doing?” I asked Rose.
“Good days, bad days,” she said, pushing a lock of her perfect hair back from her face. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. I really need something to keep me busy so I’m not always thinking about what happened.” She took a deep breath. “I was thinking of applying for a job at the paper where you work. I could help with the story.”
“I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. “That might just make you more depressed.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “But I want to help in some way. I mean, we weren’t close, but she was my sister.”
“Well,” I said, “there’s one thing you could do. Can you tell us anything about Kara’s life when you both were growing up?”
“Not a lot,” she said. “Arnold, Missouri, is a fairly small town, but we lived separate lives. After we were adults we grew even further apart. And then she went to jail. After she got out, she came to church with me for a while, but then she dropped out.”
“What church was that?” Thelma asked.
“The Wings of Hope. It’s right on the main highway through town. And she used to work at a bar there, the Lucky Seven Lounge. I don’t remember where it is, if it’s still there even.”
“Okay, thanks. That helps a lot.”
After she left, I said to Thelma, “I feel sorry for her. She moves here to repair her relationship with her sister, and then her sister is murdered. So what does she do now?”
“I think she’ll find something,” Thelma said. “She comes across as a resourceful woman.”
“We’d better go,” I said, looking at my watch. “Time for me to get sexy.”
Thelma rolled her eyes.
Avery was waiting for us just inside Victoria’s Secret. He was back to being dressed as a man, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the least to be seen loitering in a woman’s lingerie shop.
“Why does your purse have a hole in it?” he asked.
“I had a run-in with a dog.”
That seemed to satisfy him.
“I’ve found the perfect thing,” he said, leading us to the back of the store where there were all kinds of lacy tops on display. He held up a black thing with thin straps. It flared at the waist, which I figured would make my hips look all that much bigger. “Look at the back,” he said enthusiastically, turning it around to show me how it laced.
“I can’t wear that,” I hissed. “It’s obscene.”
“But think how you’ll look with your bar
e arms and your cleavage,” he pleaded.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking about,” I said.
“I have to agree with Aretha,” Thelma said. “I think this is too over the top.”
“Okay, okay. How about if she wears a blouse under it?”
We all agreed that I could do that, so then it was on to Walmart. The blouse that Avery and Thelma picked out for me was a white lacy thing with long sleeves and flared cuffs. Thelma came up with a flouncy calico skirt, and we were done. I had on ankle boots since we’d had a light rain overnight, and the pavement was wet. Thelma and Avery decided I should keep the boots with the outfit and had me try on everything together.
I stared in the mirror and then sat down in the dressing room. No way was I going out in public looking like this.
“Come on,” Avery called. “Let’s see how it looks.”
“No way,” I said. “I’m not going to wear this.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Thelma said, pushing her way into the dressing room. I was sorry I’d neglected to lock the door. She took one look and chuckled.
“I look like a demented milk maid from the Swiss Alps!” I cried.
“It’s not that bad,” Thelma said soothingly.
“I’m getting a hot flash,” I complained.
“Get changed back, and let’s buy it,” Thelma said. “Whatever you wear to that party isn’t going to matter anyway. I just need to know what you have on when I identify the body.”
“I’m not going to die chained up in somebody’s basement,” I snapped. “Now leave so I can get out of this.”
Avery went on his way back home, and Thelma and I headed to the office. Joan Larkin was sitting at my desk, looking forlorn.
“What’s happened?” I asked, dropping my shopping bags and sitting down in the empty chair next to her. Thelma hovered nearby.
“It’s Stewart,” she whimpered. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” I asked, afraid that, being a Type A personality, he’d died of a heart attack.
