by Gerald Lopez
“That doesn’t stop some men from putting their stuff in and out of the women’s bodies, and playing with their tetas,” Mercedes said.
“Ewww,” Lucie said.
“Some men are disgusting,” Adele said.
“It’s not that simple,” Mercedes said. “Sometimes even good men can go crazy, being locked away in those rooms with the dead bodies and inhaling all those funky chemicals they use.”
“I didn’t think about all of that,” Adele said.
“You should be careful not to accidentally inhale those fumes when you go back to help Maxime,” Mercedes said.
“Maybe you should wear one of those paper masks,” Lucie said.
“I’ll manage somehow,” Adele said.
“If you need us to go with you just ask,” Mercedes said.
“YOU’VE BEEN WORKING hard, Maxime,” Father Albion said. “Let’s sit in the back patio a while.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Maxime said. “That sounds good.” He took off his gloves, washed his hands in the sink, then went outside with Father Albion.
On the way out, Maxime grabbed two sodas—one for him, and one for Father Albion. They sat outside and drank their sodas in silence for a few minutes then Father Albion spoke.
“This is really difficult for you, Maxime, I can tell.”
“She needs to look perfect, Father. All her life she wanted to be noticed… to have her name in lights and be famous. What she didn’t do in life, she’ll achieve in death. I’ll make sure of that. People will come to see the beautiful angel in your chapel.”
“I’m sure they will. Corinne had many friends who cared for her.”
“Not as many as people think she had,” Maxime said. “She wasn’t a slut like people say, so don’t believe everything you hear. I knew and know better.”
“What do you know, Maxime? Tell me. It might make you feel better.
THE DETECTIVE HAD been looking through the pics he’d taken of the murder scene at La Mer on his phone while waiting for Walter. Except for the bedroom where Cabot had been killed, everything looked neat and tidy. Even the bedroom was tidy, except for the bed. Not at all like someone had broken in, or been searching for something. But he suspected whatever was in the suitcase the little girl had definitely came from the penthouse. He had no doubt at least part of what happened in that penthouse was an inside job. Probably a couple of hotel workers as Walter had suggested. A rich man dies and the vultures descend.
“Sorry I was gone so long,” Walter said, when he located his detective. “I was arranging a special treat.” He kissed his detective, who pulled him down so that he ended up sitting on his lap. The two laughed.
The music stopped, and an announcer appeared on stage. He made an announcement in French then Spanish and finally English.
“Presenting Queenie and her ladies in waiting Royale and Flan.”
“Flan?” the detective said. “That’s a dessert.”
“One that’s sticky, creamy, and sweet,” Walter said.
Queenie appeared on stage between a drag queen dressed in Orange with a big flower in her orange sherbert color wig, and one in a purple sequins wearing a lavender wig with a large tiara on top.
“Queenie’s in red,” Walter said. “Flan is in orange and Royale’s in purple.”
Dalida’s “Tu M’as Declare L’amour” song started to play, and Queenie and the girls began lip-synching and dancing to it. Walter got up, grabbed his detective’s hand, and led him to the dance floor. Just to shock his dance partner, the detective decided to let the music take over, have fun, and dance his heart out. The smile on Walter’s face let the detective know his decision had been a good one. They were soon joined by their young fan from outside and his friends. All of them were having a good time, enjoying the music. When the song stopped, Queenie went up to the microphone and spoke.
“This next song is dedicated to two former flames who have found their way back to one another. This time for forever. To Walter and his man.”
Queenie began to lip-synch to Dalida’s “Histoire D’un Amour”.
The crowd cheered, then moved to the sides of the dance floor leaving Water and his detective alone.
“Oh God, I’m sorry, babe,” Walter said. “I had no idea they’d do this.”
“Shh,” his detective said, then took Walter’s hand and led him to the center of the floor where they began to slow dance.
After a few seconds, Walter held his detective tightly and laid his head on his detective’s shoulder. He couldn’t hold back his tears any longer.
“This is the happiest night of my life,” Walter said. His detective held him closer, and they swayed in place. Others joined them on the dance floor, but Walter still felt alone with his man.
The detective didn’t need to hear Walter or see him to know the tears had come. God, he loved the man. There was no denying it on any level. At that very moment he wanted nothing more than to make him happy.
“Queenie was right,” the detective said.
“Huh?” Walter said raising his head.
The detective wiped Walter’s tears away with his finger. “We’re for forever, babe.” He got down on his knee, and looked up at Walter who seemed momentarily lost.
“That was a proposal,” Walter said, then smiled. “Yes! Yes!” His detective stood up, and they hugged and kissed while everyone cheered around them.
“CORINNE ACTED AS what they call a beard for that guy who owns La Mer hotel,” Maxime said to Father Albion. “Mr. Peters has never really been in the closet, but sometimes for parties or functions he likes a pretty girl on his arm. Most of the time that was Corinne. That doesn’t make her a bad girl, does it? They never slept together or even kissed. Heck, most of Mr. Peters’ time is taken up by the hotel. He never dates anybody.”
“No, that didn’t make Corinne a bad girl,” Father Albion said. “But, Maxime, how did she get the reputation she had?”
“She could be a flirt like most girls, and she loved to go out dancing with the tourists. A few times she went skinny-dipping at night in the sea with some men that she thought could help her get into show business. But she was never like Naomi and those women.”
“A little skinny-dipping is fairly harmless, but you know how people love to gossip. Someone probably saw her one night, and ran their mouth in a malicious way.”
“I told her never to take those tourists seriously, even if they promised her the moon and the stars, but she had no time for poor boys like me.”
“You have a good career working for your father, and you’ll inherit the business one day. You’re far from poor.”
“Maybe so, but Corinne was really dazzled by some of the wealthy guests who visited and stayed at the La Mer. And, Father, she may have done some things that were bad—really bad.”
Chapter 8
Reports of missing People
“WHAT COULD CORINNE have done that was so bad?” Father Albion said, then took a sip of his soda.
“She wanted so badly to be a star,” Maxime said.
Father Albion thought he should change the subject somewhat, so he did. “It’s unusual for a native to be so affected by the sun they would fall off the rocks, isn’t it? As you know, I wasn’t born here and can’t be sure about those things.”
“If a person is otherwise healthy, they should be used to the sun and the heat to a certain degree,” Maxime said. “But you’ve never taken a good look at Corinne, have you? No one really does and they end up missing so much.”
WALTER AND HIS detective were sitting at their table talking about the murder and indulging in cocktails. The detective had asked several questions that Walter was thinking about.
“It’s clear someone had the combination to the safe in Cabot’s room,” Walter said. “But any number of people could’ve had that—and money alone doesn’t turn a thief into a killer. Which would go along with your theory that there were at least two different people involved. And the murder seemed unnecessarily brutal.�
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“Someone with a grudge was angry,” the detective said.
“Hello, lovebirds,” Queenie said, as she approached the table. “May I join you?”
“Please do,” Walter said.
The detective stood and pulled a chair back for Queenie to use.
“What a gentleman,” Queenie said after she was seated.
“You’re quite the exotic queen of the night,” the detective said to Queenie.
“My mother was born in Mississippi, but her family hailed from Somalia originally. Daddy is Parisian born and bred,” Queenie said.
“Queenie, have you seen Marianne tonight?” Walter said.
“As a matter of fact I have not,” Queenie said.
“Naomi didn’t show up to dinner at her usual haunt either,” Walter said.
“And that little girl Louise hasn’t been around the club tonight to sell her flowers,” Queenie said. “That’s a lot of missing folks.”
“SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL—everyone could see that,” Father Albion said.
“I thought she was the most beautiful girl in town, but others considered her merely average in looks,” Maxime said. “She could never have worked for Naomi.”
“No? Did she try?”
“She knew better than to do that.”
“Hmm,” Father Albion said, then tried to conjure up a living breathing Corinne in his mind.
QUEENIE AND WALTER were still talking when a tall, handsome, tan stranger with short but thick and wavy black hair walked up to their table. The tight shirt and pants he wore accentuated his lean, fit body. When the lights caught his dark brown eyes they sparkled. He looked at the detective and held his hand out.
“My name is Robertito. May I have this dance, Detective?”
The detective looked at Walter for a clue to who the man was and why he was there.
“Good evening, officer,” Walter said. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from discussing business with my detective so I won’t ask how you’re doing.”
So this is business, the detective thought, as he followed Robertito down to the dance floor.
“I requested a slow song so we could get up close and personal to discuss business,” Robertito said.
“I’ll lead,” the detective said.
“Lucky I’m good at taking orders when need be,” Robertito said, then smiled.
They started to slow dance to Liza Minnelli’s “Rent”.
“She wasn’t the original singer of this song, you know,” Robertito said. “Before her The Beastie Boys sang it. “I like both versions but Liza’s is sexier. We need to put on a bit of a show, Detective, so people don’t suspect anything.” He turned and ground his ass up against the detective’s crotch.
“So none of this is real?” the detective said.
“Some things are all too real right now,” Robertito said, then turned to face the detective. “Say the word and I’d be happy to join you and Walt in bed. But there are other things to deal with at present, like the murder at the hotel.”
“Are you here in an official or unofficial capacity, Officer,” the detective said, then blew softly against Robertito’s neck.
“Walt is extremely handsome, and you’re very masculine—I like that. I have a taste for beautiful women as well. I’m only twenty-five, why limit myself. I’ve tried but never gotten anywhere with Walt in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” The detective said. “What’s this all about, Officer?”
“That’s the million dollar question, Detective.”
“I GIVE UP,” Father Albion said. “When I picture Corinne in my mind, all I see is a pretty girl who enjoyed life.”
“Maybe you have to look at people like I do to have witnessed certain things,” Maxime said, then stood and began to pace. “She was thin—too thin, and no one ever seemed to notice. Her cheeks were the tiniest bit sunken in, and she should’ve had wider hips. One time she came to my house when my parents were out of town, and I ordered a fancy dinner for us. She excused herself to use the toilet when we were done eating. I heard the sound of her being sick or so I thought.”
“She was throwing up her meal,” Father Albion said.
“Yes. When I asked her about it she shrugged it off. Everyone in Hollywood did it she said. That’s why she was so dizzy or whatever that she fell off the rocks. Corinne never ate enough, and when she did she threw it up afterward. People look but they don’t really see what’s right in front of them sometimes.”
“No, I guess they don’t. Poor Corinne trying so desperately to get somewhere. She could’ve been happy right here if she’d allowed herself to be.”
“Not her, Father. She would’ve never been content or happy in this place. Her days were spent dreaming of a fantasy life far from here and away from all of us.”
“WALT’S WAVING TO us,” Robertito said to the detective. “We’d better see what’s going on.”
They returned to the table and sat down.
“We’ve heard from Marianne,” Walter said, “She just texted Queenie.”
“And?” Robertito said.
“Marianne wants the detective to meet her at Le Paradis now, and to take Walter,” Queenie said. “It’s not safe at the hotel at present.”
“Why not?” Robertito said.
“I texted her the same question,” Queenie said. “She replied that there’s a new team involved in whatever’s going on, and it’s a very dangerous time for a lot of people.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Robertito said. “What’s this stuff about a team at work in our town?”
“I have no idea,” Queenie said. “But Marianne has always been abreast of things that go on here. The girl’s very well connected, so we should do as she says.” Her phone vibrated and she looked at it. “Marianne says it’s time for you and Walter to leave, Detective.”
The detective stood and looked at Walter, who followed his lead and also got up.
“I’m following along but I’ll stay hidden in the shadows,” Robertito said.
“Marianne knows you’re here, and texted for you only to get involved if you’re desperately needed,” Queenie said. “Otherwise play watchman.”
When the detective and Walter got outside, Ranvir was waiting in his cab.
“Our ride, I take it,” Walter said, then got in the backseat of the taxi with his detective. “I’ve got no idea what’s going on, Babe, but I trust Marianne and Queenie. There must be a reason Marianne is being so mysterious.”
“Marianne told me to make myself scarce after I drop you two off at Le Paradis,” Ranvir said. “But I’m also to keep my night clear in case I should be needed.”
“What mood is the town in tonight, Ranvir?” the detective said.
“Tense, Sir. Too much is happening at present, and none of it good.”
“And the players?” the detective said.
“No one really knows who they all are,” Ranvir said. “Marianne knows some of them, but whoever is feeding her information is not all-seeing in this circumstance.”
“And what’s our part in this game?” Walter said.
“I don’t know, and I believe it is probably safer that way. Don’t ask too many questions for now. Maybe not even when everything is over. Not if you want to survive whatever is happening here.”
Chapter 9
Giving Chase
AS THE DETECTIVE listened to Dalida singing “Bang Bang” playing from the taxi’s speakers, he thought about things. He’d only arrived earlier in the day, and already some of the major players in town knew who he was, and how to reach him. In a locale like this that wasn’t so unusual, especially since Walter seemed to know all the people involved so far. Walter seemed perplexed but not frightened, that meant he definitely trusted Marianne. But it was clear Walter didn’t know everyone who was involved. Neither did Marianne. The detective ran the facts through his head. So far there was one dead man who’d been abused either before or after his death. And there were several peopl
e who weren’t where they should be. That particular fact seemed to bother Walter quite a bit. So the detective took special note of that nugget of information.
“We’re almost there, babe,” Walter said.
The taxi stopped in front of Le Paradis and the detective and Walter got out and went inside. All eyes in the place were on them, but the one person the detective didn’t see was Marianne.
“Back for some more, Detective,” Arnou said, as he entered the club and walked toward the detective. He was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. “What did you do with Gabriel and Galen?”
Rather than respond to him, the detective turned to Walter and gave him a look that Walter would know meant for him to stay out of whatever was about to happen.
“I’m talking to you, Detective,” Arnou said as he charged at the detective.
The detective reacted swiftly, and sent a high kick straight at Arnou’s stomach causing him to drop like he’d done earlier in the day. But as the detective walked by him, Arnou grabbed his leg and pulled it out from under him. Soon the two were back up and throwing punches. People began yelling and egging them on.
“That’s enough,” a large, muscular, black man said, as he headed toward the detective and Arnou and broke them up. “I said enough! Marianne wants to see the both of you.” He looked at Walter. “She would like to see you too, Mr. Peters.”
The man escorted the three of them past the bar, down a few steps, and into a back room that housed cleaning supplies. Right away the detective noticed the back door. Marianne was smoking a cigarette under the dim, ceiling light. She wore a slinky spaghetti strap tank top over rolled up jeans. Her platinum hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
“Men,” Marianne said in English. “Why does it always have to be about who has the biggest cock in the room?” She blew out a puff of smoke.
