The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  Friday morning, Susan unlocked the kiosk while A. K. welcomed a group of waiting customers. No sooner had Susan set up the cash drawer and the machine for charge receipts then a rambunctious bunch of males descended upon the shop. They immediately drew A. K.’s attention.

  “If you’ll finish helping these ladies,” A. K. said to Susan, “I’ll outfit our rowdy friends.”

  Susan didn’t argue. Surrounded by all that testosterone, A. K. was in her element. After several minutes, the men left, laughing and satisfied at their transformation. The elevator doors opened and another group of excited customers exited—a harbinger of what was to come. From that moment on, the onslaught never stopped. People seemed to come out of the woodwork. Suck it up, she told herself. They had only to survive the rush today and Saturday. Sunday, the festival would wrap up around noon, so she wouldn’t be selling costumes that day.

  Around noon, Miguel showed up with sandwiches and cold drinks. “I could tell you had your hands full. The guests went from check in, to their room, to your costume shop. I figured you didn’t have time to break for lunch.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Susan said.

  “I’ll run the kiosk while you eat,” A. K. said. “Then we’ll swap.”

  Susan nodded and moved to the back of the store. Miguel followed.

  “Did Randy ever show up?” she asked.

  “Yes, but it was much later after you had retired to you room. But I’ll keep my eye out for him.”

  “Did he happen to be in costume?”

  “Not when I saw him. Your friend, Deputy Lightfoot, is here, still asking questions.”

  “He’s not my friend. I only met him yesterday, but for Wesley’s sake, I hope he turns up something.” Susan eased close to the banister and looked down into the lobby. “I see him.”

  Kerry Lightfoot stood near the front entrance in conversation with one man. The way it looked to her, Kerry was doing most of the talking. When he looked her way, she smiled and waved, as if she were glad to see him. Really, she’d just as soon he’d stay in Gulfport.

  It was then that a striking, petite blonde caught her attention. If she wasn’t mistaken, the woman’s blue and yellow print dress was a Versace design. Beauty, taste, and money—age aside, she had all the qualities Randy liked, according to Miguel. As a bonus, this woman looked to be in her late twenties.

  Susan nudged Miguel closer to the banister. “Who’s that woman talking to the hostess?”

  “That’s Betty Sue Halsey. She owns the escort service…probably making sure the new girl is on board and doesn’t have any problems. If you’ll excuse me, I should get back. We’re swamped at the front desk.”

  “Thanks, Miguel. I owe you.”

  She watched the Ms. Halsey with interest, wishing she could hear what the two were saying. When the hostess nodded, Betty Sue frowned and stared up at the mezzanine, making eye contact with Susan. Caught off guard, Susan stepped back out of sight. Now she really wanted to know what they discussed. Susan jumped when A. K. walked up behind her.

  “It’s all yours,” A. K. said. “I’m starving.”

  Susan walked over and began to straighten some costumes on a display table. She looked up when the elevator dinged. Her first thought was that the Halsey woman was going to pay her a visit. Instead, an elderly woman exited. Susan gave a sigh of relief and greeted her with a smile. Though up in age, the woman was striking. Her complexion was smooth and wrinkle free. Not only that, she had a spring to her step. Susan hoped she would be as perky when she reached her golden years.

  “I have just the costume for you.” Susan selected a silk blouse with a wide collar and a multi-colored skirt. Boots, jewelry, and a long, dark wig to hide her gray hair completed the outfit. “You look terrific.”

  The small woman lingered in front of a mirror. “I do, don’t I?” Handing Susan her credit card, she eyed a strapping young man who had entered the kiosk. She leaned closer to Susan, and a mischievous grin crossed her face. “I wouldn’t mind walking the plank with that one.”

  “Go for it, tiger.”

  The woman gave the young man a wink as she made her way to the elevators.

  Susan smiled. Yep, the old girl still has it.

  The young man browsed through the kiosk and apparently didn’t see anything he liked. Giving Susan a nod, he crossed the mezzanine toward the stairs. Was he really here to shop or was he eavesdropping? Oh my gosh, I am getting paranoid.

  Susan adjusted the costumes on the racks, hanging some on the ends for display. As she worked, a scent of lime tweaked her nose. She turned and faced Kerry Lightfoot. He was standing much too close to suit her. She took a step backwards.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  She patted her heart. “It’s just that I didn’t hear you. Did you find out anything helpful?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t get them to open up. Seems we’re working the same people. Several of the employees said you’ve asked them the same questions.”

  “So?”

  “Having to answer the same questions seems to have had a negative effect on them. It might be best if you let me ask the questions. If you were to cross paths with Lorraine’s murderer, that person might consider you a threat.”

  “Wesley warned me about that. I doubt the killer would do anything to me just for asking a few questions. I’m sure the murderer would want to keep a low profile. Besides, I don’t intend to stray from the hotel and will make sure I’m never alone.”

  “That’s good to hear, but I still wish you’d back off with all the questions.”

  “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little competition?”

  “Ms. Griffin, this is not a game.”

  “I know that, and I also know that two can cover more ground than one.”

  A customer appeared from behind the racks holding a costume against her. “I think I’m going to take this one.”

  “You’ll have to excuse me,” Susan said to Kerry. “Business calls.”

  Kerry nodded and walked toward the stairs.

  She and A. K. stayed busy all day. Not until a few minutes before closing did the last of the customers leave the mezzanine. As Susan gathered up the charge slips and cash, her cell phone rang. The caller ID flashed Myrtle’s name.

  “Hi, Myrtle. It’s hard to hear you over the noise from the lobby. I’m on my way to my room. Let me call you back in a few minutes.”

  A sigh came through the phone. “Okay.”

  “She didn’t sound too happy,” Susan said to A. K.

  “Give her time. Put yourself in her place. It won’t be tomorrow that she’ll get over Lorraine’s murder. You go ahead. I’ll straighten up before I leave and lock the gate. Hey, you’re going to the ballroom tonight, right?”

  “Sure. I met someone dressed as Blackbeard. He asked me to save him a dance. I’m curious to see if he will show again. Come get me when you’re ready to go.”

  Once in the room, Susan separated tomorrow’s operating cash from today’s sales and put it in an envelope. Then she locked everything in the room safe.

  Slipping off her boots, she stretched her feet. Both costume and boots were beginning to wear on her. She was so ready to slip on one of the boutique’s stylish outfits and a pair of high heels. Sitting on the bed, she returned Myrtle’s call.

  “How are you, Myrtle?”

  “Doing the best I can, but that’s not the reason I called.” She paused. “I found what you wanted.”

  Susan bolted from the bed. “You found photos?”

  “They’re not what I expected. They’re horrible. There are photos of the mayor naked and with different women. How could he do that to his wife?”

  “Myrtle, you have to get those pictures to Wesley.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t bear for him to look at them in my presence.”

  “He won’t. Just make that clear to him. You do want to catch the person responsible for your sister’s death, don’t you?”

  �
�Of course, but what does the mayor’s infidelity have to do with it?”

  “Somehow it must be connected. Promise me you’ll call him as soon as we hang up.”

  “Uh, would you call him for me?”

  “It would be best if you do. Do you have his cell number?”

  “Yes, I’ve talked to him several times since Lorraine went missing.” Myrtle blew a long sigh. “Okay, I’ll make the call, but he has to promise not to look at the photos when I give them to him. I’d die of embarrassment.”

  “Oh, Myrtle, you might have found just the evidence that Wesley needs to put an end to this nightmare.”

  “You don’t know how much I’ve prayed for that day.”

  “I’m praying with you, Myrtle. When I get back home, I’ll come see you. If you need me before then, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  Susan so wanted to tell Wesley about the photos, but that was Myrtle’s place. She placed her phone on the dresser and stepped into the shower with a feeling of optimism. Wesley would finally have tangible evidence to support the motive of blackmail for sure. Just how that would tie into Lorraine’s murder was yet to be seen. After toweling off, she slipped on her costume for the evening, reapplied her makeup, and fixed her hair. She kept glancing at her cell, anticipating Wesley’s call. When it rang, she answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Good news. Earlier today, I paid Zelda that visit. Talk about setting off a firestorm. I could swear I saw smoke coming from her hair. Of course, I made sure to say that we don’t suspect the mayor, but we have to follow up on all leads, check out anyone who had contact with Lorraine. I got the feeling Karl had made more visits to the Pirates’ Reef than Zelda knew about.

  “First, she played the dutiful wife and made excuses for her husband. Then she got real defensive, said he often went there on business trips. All the while, I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. When I asked if Karl ever mentioned seeing Lorraine, her face grew red. She fired back so fast, I almost ducked.

  “She said until Lorraine returned to Palmetto, no one remembered anything about her. I could tell she was upset, so I tried to calm her. I reiterated that Karl could probably clear up everything. But by then, the pot was boiling. I planted the seed. Now, I only have to wait and see what develops.”

  “Wait? You mean you don’t have any other news?” Susan’s reflection in the mirror stared back with a frown.

  “You know dang well I do. Myrtle called me.”

  “And?”

  “She had them taped up in an envelope and made me promise not to open it until I was in my car. Then she turned and hurried into her house. Wow, they’re something else. Didn’t know old Karl had it in him. With Lorraine’s bank statement and Myrtle’s photos, I shouldn’t have a problem getting a warrant for Karl’s records. But after Zelda gets through with him, he might just confess to everything.”

  Susan heard what sounded like a car door slam.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the parking lot at headquarters. I’m going to make copies of Randy’s mug shot and Myrtle’s photos. By the way, Kerry called me today, said you’re still questioning lots of people. He’s concerned for your safety, and so am I.”

  “You needn’t be. A. K. and I shadow each other, and we’re always in a crowd.”

  Wesley grunted. “Keep it that way. I’ve got to go. Love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  A. K. knocked. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, come in for a minute,” Susan said, opening the door.

  Susan told A. K. about her conversation with Myrtle and Wesley.

  “I’d like to be a fly on the wall in Zelda’s house. Bet she puts the screws to him.” A. K. laughed then her face turned somber. “I still can’t see Karl doing such a gruesome thing.”

  “Hey, Lorraine was threatening to destroy his life? Desperate people do desperate things.”

  “What if you’re wrong and her killer is here? We’d better make sure we do as Wesley says—stay together and in crowds. Speaking of which, I’m ready to see what hunky pirate might be waiting for me.”

  “And I’m curious to see if a certain Blackbeard will show again. He sounded sincere when he asked me to save him a dance last night. He seemed like a nice guy, but men on the prowl can be very deceptive.”

  “So what if you never see him again? There are lots more to choose from. Talking about Blackbeard, that was our biggest seller. I must have outfitted four or five guys in that costume. I have the feeling they liked the idea of anonymity.”

  Several loud booms signaled the mock battle was underway. Together, they descended the stairs and waited outside the ballroom until the smoke cleared and the music started.

  A. K. took Susan’s arm. “One battle’s enough. Time for a drink.” But before they reached the bar, a young man tapped A. K. on the shoulder.

  “How about a dance, gorgeous?”

  “You bet. How’d you know my name?” She stepped into his opened arms, and they disappeared into the crowded dance floor.

  Susan laughed. Poor man; he didn’t know what he was in for.

  Finding a seat at the bar, Susan signaled the bartender.

  “Well, hello there, costume lady,” Sam said. “VO and Sprite, right?”

  “Right.”

  Miguel took the seat next to her. “How’s it going?”

  “Great. Glad you’re here. You still haven’t found Randy?”

  Miguel looked over the dance floor. “He has to be in disguise. I don’t see him. I’ll keep an eye out and let you know when I do. Well, I’d better check on my crew.” He strolled toward the lobby.

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned, Blackbeard reached out a hand for her. “I believe you promised me a dance.”

  The odd-looking tattoo on his wrist identified him as the same man she had danced with the night before. “Aye aye, Captain.”

  “You look even more beautiful than when I last saw you.”

  “And you, my friend, have a silver tongue.” She heard a muffled chuckle beneath his mask. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  He nodded.

  “The tattoo on the back of your wrist. Why a pitchfork?”

  This time he laughed out loud, a deep, robust laugh. “Indeed not. It’s a trident.”

  “Like Neptune’s staff?”

  “Exactly. I spend a great deal of time on the water and thought his symbol would be appropriate. In a way, I kind of see myself like Neptune. Not that I envision myself as a god, but I believe I draw upon his multi-faceted character.”

  That piqued Susan’s interest. She had delved in mythology and was familiar with the lore attached to Neptune. While she possessed precognitive powers, she in no way compared her attributes to those of a mythological god.

  He turned his wrist to better show his tattoo. “Neptune’s staff represents the three-fold essences of nature—birth, life, death. And his energy provokes various states of emotions, fantasies, perceptions—even touches on ESP.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Why not? People have believed crazier things.” The dance ended, and he escorted her back to the bar. “Did you notice the cross at the bottom of his staff?” He pointed to it and said, “That represents a stabilizing force.”

  It also represents that you’re a fruitcake. Can I pick ’em or what?

  “One more dance?” he asked.

  At that moment, she had a brain freeze and couldn’t think of a reason to send him packing, and before she knew it, she was on the dance floor. Well, this is your last dance, buster. When this song ends, we’re parting ways.

  As they circled the room, he maneuvered them close to an exit that led to the beach. “I find it stuffy in here,” he said, clearing his throat. “Why don’t we get some fresh air? A stroll on the beach would be nice.”

  The idea of going off alone with this stranger sent up red flags. Wesley’s words bounced around in her head—stay with A. K. and in c
rowds. She forced a smile and hoped she didn’t show the panic that was building inside her. Her stomach was turning flips. “I really shouldn’t. My friend will wonder what happened to me.” She turned to head to the bar, but he grabbed her arm.

  “We won’t be gone long.”

  Opening the door to the beach, his hand tightened around her bicep like a steel band.

  “I said, ‘No.’” The music was so loud, it drowned out her protest. Everyone seemed caught up in their own little world. No one seemed concerned about her.

  Before she knew it, her boots were sliding over the sandy walkway. Her mind raced faster than her pounding heart. Was this Lorraine’s killer? Lorraine’s terror-stricken face flashed before her eyes. Would Wesley find pieces of her mangled body? Susan screamed for help, but no one was around to hear her. Her cries became whimpers, and she pleaded with him. “Please, let me go.”

  Chapter 8

  Wesley slipped a stack of Randy’s mug shots into a folder and put a few in the inside pocket of his jacket. “You ready?” he asked Dylan.

  Dylan popped a stick of gum into his mouth. “Let’s do it.”

  The two climbed into Wesley’s unmarked Crown Victoria and headed for the marina.

  “I still can’t get over the photos Myrtle found. Dang, the old man was really getting some hot action,” Dylan said.

  “Yes, and look where it got him. The big man is about to hit rock bottom.”

  A few miles from the Rusty Nail, the dispatcher came on the radio.

  “You there, Wes?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Thought you’d like to know. A call just came in. There’s a fire at the Bawdy Boutique.”

  “Damn! We just passed there. I didn’t see anything. I’m on my way to check it out.”

  Wesley hit the lights, made a U-turn, and gunned the motor. He pulled in right behind the fire engine. Only then did he notice a glow coming from the back of the shop. When he drove around the boutique, he saw the problem. A burning dumpster had been pushed against the building.

  He and Dylan scrambled from his vehicle and ran to help two firemen who were struggling to push the dumpster clear of the back wall. When water hit the container, smoke billowed into the air. The paint on the back of the building that contained the warehouse was blackened and blistered, but no part of the structure appeared to be on fire.