Dead But Not Forgotten

by Charlaine Harris

  “No, he probably didn’t.” Claudine looked at her pad in her hands. “What should we do now?”

  “Check the men’s dressing room,” Claude said after a brief reflection. “Perhaps we can find a clue of some kind to what really happened to Seamus.” He strode from the office, and Claudine followed.

  The twins spent several minutes searching the small room. Claude found Seamus’s costumes on their hangers in the closet but not his street clothes. Seamus was never messy and had always hung up his garments when he changed. Claudine searched the small chest of drawers the men shared but found only spare thongs and underwear, along with a few toiletries.

  Claude sorted through the contents of the wastebasket but found only discarded tissues and the small cotton balls they used when removing makeup. He set the wastebasket down and glanced around the room. Where else should he look?

  He eyed the small sofa bed that occupied a corner. He took the cushions off and set them aside. Claudine grasped the nylon cord to pull out the mattress, and as the mattress unfolded, they saw a sparkly substance.

  Claude stared at the scattering of fairy dust. “The killer probably didn’t know that Seamus would appear to us after death, nor that he would leave something behind.”

  “And since he died on the bed, that probably means he was having sex when he died.” Claudine frowned.

  “Having sex wouldn’t kill him, or else he’d have died long ago,” Claude said.

  “Of course not,” Claudine snapped. “You know what it had to be.” There was only one thing that could kill a fairy that quickly—lemon juice, one of the few weaknesses a fairy had. “With the storm and the flooding, the killer couldn’t get far.”

  “Nobody left the building after Seamus was last seen, so the killer must still be here, and it must be a woman because Seamus never had sex with men. Since none of the customers would have been able to come backstage without being seen, the killer is either Velva, Lula Ann, or Artemisia.” Claude nodded, pleased with his logic. “Let’s get them into the office and question them, and I’ll ask Jeff to search their dressing room while they’re with us.”

  “What is he going to look for, besides lemon juice?” Claudine asked. “I wouldn’t count on him finding anything. But I suppose if he does find lemon juice, at least it won’t hurt him.”

  Claude said, “Jeff really is smarter than you think. You underestimate him, just as Claudette did. I will tell him to look for lemon juice, of course, but also to look for anything odd.”

  Claudine didn’t appear convinced but did not argue further as they moved to the office. “You wait here, and I’ll bring them back. I’ll send Jeff first.”

  Claude pulled an extra chair behind the desk and sat. Jeff appeared a minute later.

  “Claudine said you want me to do something?” He smiled happily, and Claude returned the smile briefly.

  “I want you to search the women’s dressing room for us,” he said. “I can’t explain why now, but see if you can find anything with lemon juice on it, or anything that might have contained it recently. Also, anything you think might shed light on Seamus’s death.”

  Jeff nodded. “Sure, I can do that. Kinda like they do in the cop shows. Should I get some plastic gloves from the kitchen?” He looked excited by his task.

  Claude shook his head. “They won’t be necessary.” There was no need to worry about compromising evidence, since the local police would not be involved.

  “Okay, then.” Jeff shrugged. “I’ll be thorough.”

  Moments later, Claudine returned, herding the three female strippers ahead of her. Marlon Eccles trailed behind. There were only two empty chairs, and Velva Gillon and Lula Ann Sheffield, the blonde and the redhead, claimed them. Velva dropped her handbag by her chair. That left Velva’s boyfriend and Artemisia Jackson, the third stripper, on their feet. Marlon stood behind Velva, one large hand on her shoulder, and glared at Claudine. Claude wondered whether the man, large as he was, realized that Claudine was strong enough to disembowel him in five seconds flat.

  Velva, always the mouthy one, spoke first. “What the hell is going on here? We wanted a friendly meeting to discuss a few things, and you hustled us in here like a bunch of kids going to the principal’s office.” She patted her heavily lacquered head.

  Lula Ann giggled. “Chill out, Velva. I bet you got sent to the principal’s office a lot, all those years ago when you was in school.”

  Velva glowered at Lula Ann’s little sally, but before she could reply, the third stripper spoke.

  “Can we get on with this?” Artemisia’s sultry voice betrayed the black woman’s annoyance. “I have a paper to write.”

  Velva flashed Artemisia a look of loathing. “You’re always throwing it up to me and Red about how you’re going to college.” She mimicked the other woman’s throaty tones. “I have a paper to write. Lord, you surely do piss me the hell off.”

  “Shut up.” Claudine didn’t raise her voice, but the women and Marlon started. Velva’s expression grew sullen, and she leaned against Marlon.

  Claude whispered, low enough that only his sister could hear, “I’ve got this.” He had thought of the tactic he wanted to use. He spoke in normal tones. “Seamus has disappeared.” He tried to gauge the reaction from the four humans, but he detected no unusual expression, only what he read as curiosity.

  “Probably ran off with some skank from the audience.” Velva laughed. “He couldn’t keep it in his pants if his life depended on it.”

  Lula Ann snorted. “You oughta know, hon.”

  “I ain’t no skank, and I ain’t never done nothing with Seamus.” Velva grabbed a handful of Lula’s hair and yanked hard. The wig flew off. Velva might have thought Lula Ann would be upset, but the woman just smirked as she patted the short black hair now revealed. Marlon put both hands on Velva’s shoulders and held her back. Lula Ann plucked her wig away from Velva and put it in her lap.

  “Au contraire, Velva.” Artemisia smiled. “That means ‘I beg to differ with you.’ The first night Seamus came to see us perform, I heard the two of you going at it in the guys’ dressing room after the second set.”

  Marlon’s deep voice startled the humans. “Velva, what the hell were you doing fooling around with that asshole?” His hands tightened around his girlfriend’s neck, and Claude noted that Velva started to get red in the face. She reached up and grabbed Marlon’s hands and wrenched them from her neck.

  “It was only one time,” she said after she caught her breath. She twisted in her chair to stare up at her boyfriend. “I swear to you. I don’t even know what came over me. He ain’t my type, you know that, Marlon. I like ’em big and burly and tattooed.”

  Claude couldn’t tell by Marlon’s wooden expression whether he was satisfied with Velva’s claims, but the man folded his arms across his chest and stepped back to lean against the wall. Velva looked stricken and huddled in her chair.

  “You appear to be unhappy with the news that Velva had sex with Seamus.” Claude watched the big man closely. “Did you know about this before now?”

  Marlon eyed his interrogator with what Claude assumed was contempt. “If I had, you can bet Seamus would’ve disappeared before now. I’d have beat the crap out of him and left him in the Dumpster.” He laughed. “Guess he decided to run off before I got hold of him.”

  Claude and Claudine exchanged a quick glance. She shrugged slightly, and Claude reckoned that Marlon was telling the truth. He probably would have tried to beat Seamus up, but he would have been surprised at the outcome of such an attempt.

  Claude focused on the women as he continued. “Is the men’s dressing room one of Seamus’s accustomed trysting spots?”

  “If you mean he liked to get it on in there, then yeah, it sure was, even though that dang sofa ain’t too comfortable,” Lula Ann said. “He got me in there once, and I have to tell you, he sure knew wha
t he was doing.” She sighed. “Only problem was, he was a onetime kind of guy.”

  “Did that distress you?” Claude asked. “Did you perhaps want more from Seamus?”

  Lula Ann shrugged. “Wouldn’t have minded, but there’s plenty of guys out there that know how to hit the right spot.” She batted her eyelashes at Claude. “I bet you do, don’t you, hon?”

  Claude regarded her. He had occasionally dallied with women, but he much preferred men. Lula Ann didn’t interest him as a potential sexual partner, so he decided to ignore her attempt at flirtation.

  He focused on Artemisia. “How about you? Did Seamus succeed with you?”

  She stared coolly back at him. “No.”

  Claudine nudged her brother and tilted her head in the direction of the door. Claude spotted Jeff hovering there.

  “Excuse me a moment.” He went out into the hallway and pulled Jeff a few steps away from the door. “What did you discover?”

  “First thing is this.” Jeff pulled a small atomizer bottle from his jacket pocket and held it up for Claude to examine. “There’s lemon juice in it. Not much. Have a smell.”

  Claude shuddered and took a step back. “No, thank you. I’m allergic.” He stared at the bottle—nondescript plastic with no markings on it. “Where did you find it?”

  “Stuffed in one of the drawers of the makeup table.” Jeff shrugged. “All kinds of crap in there. Could belong to any one of them, I reckon.”

  Claude continued to stare at the bottle. Had the killer brought the lemon juice for the sole purpose of killing Seamus, or did it have another use?

  “Do women use lemon juice for anything?” he asked.

  Jeff laughed. “My cousin Odette tried it when she was about thirteen. Said somebody told her you could get rid of freckles by putting it on them. Like bleach, maybe.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I guess it did, at least a bit. Her freckles kinda faded, long as she stayed out of the sun. Still uses it, I think, to make her skin look tighter and younger.”

  Claude considered this information. Of the three women, which was most likely to use lemon juice as a beauty treatment?

  He discounted Artemisia on the grounds of skin color, and that left him with Lula Ann and Velva. Neither of them had freckles that he could remember, but Velva was in her midforties, while Lula Ann was probably a decade younger. Either one of them could be using it on her skin.

  “I need something to wrap the bottle in,” Claude said. “I don’t want to get any of the lemon juice on me.”

  “I got you,” Jeff said as he pulled out a handkerchief. “Clean, so it should do the trick.” He wrapped the bottle and handed it to Claude, who held it gingerly.

  “Did you find anything else?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “There’s one more thing. Well, two things, actually.” He waited for Claude’s nod before he continued. “First off, I heard what Artemisia said when you asked her about Seamus. She’s lying. I saw her and Seamus coming out of the dressing room together one night last week, and the way Seamus was smirking, I knew he’d just screwed her.”

  “Thank you for telling me.” Claude did not like it that Artemisia had lied to him. He had always thought of her as honest. She was smart and a hard worker to boot. “What was the other thing?”

  “This.” Jeff reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small photograph, and handed it to Claude.

  Claude recognized the former owner of the club, Rita Child, immediately. It was one of those glamour shots, with Rita smirking at the camera.

  “Look on the back,” Jeff said.

  Claude turned it over. He recognized Rita’s handwriting as well. She had scrawled, Don’t I look hot, cuz?

  “Where did you find this?”

  “In the same drawer as the bottle,” Jeff said. “So I guess either Lula Ann or Velva is related to Rita. Never heard either of them mention it, though.”

  Claude could have enlightened him as to why Rita’s cousin wouldn’t claim kinship publicly—or at least in Hooligans—but Jeff had no need of that information.

  Claude considered the implications of the photograph and the relationship to the former owner it revealed. Of the three women, only Velva was new to the club. In fact, she had shown up looking for work not long after Rita signed over the club to him and Claudine and then disappeared.

  “You’ve done well, Jeff.” Claude yielded to an impulse and kissed him. Jeff, though obviously surprised, returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

  The two broke apart. “You go on back to the front of the house and keep an eye on things,” Claude said. “Claudine and I will wrap this up, and I’ll see you later.”

  “Sure thing.” Jeff grinned as he strode down the hall.

  Claude reentered the silent office and took his seat behind the desk, then passed the photograph to Claudine surreptitiously. She glanced down at it. Claude did not wait to see her reaction as he placed the handkerchief-encased bottle on the desk in front of him.

  He had one piece of business he wanted resolved before he confronted Velva. He regarded Artemisia with an intent gaze. Artemisia frowned back at him.

  “You lied to us,” Claude said. “You, too, had sex with Seamus.”

  Artemisia grimaced. “I guess Jeff saw us after all. He told you, didn’t he?” When Claude didn’t respond, she continued, “Well, so what if I did? I can’t work and study all the time, can I?”

  “Not so high and mighty now, are you?” Velva glared at Artemisia. “You’re just like the rest of us.”

  “Hardly. I didn’t cheat on a boyfriend when I screwed Seamus.”

  Velva leaped out of her chair and started for Artemisia, but before she could take more than a step, Claudine was around the desk with one hand on the blonde’s shoulder. Velva winced with pain as Claudine forced her back down into her chair.

  Marlon stepped forward, as if to intervene, but stopped uncertainly when Claude moved from behind the desk to stand between him and Velva. Claudine mumbled, and the tension in Marlon’s face eased.

  “I gotta go.” He smiled. “See y’all later.” He walked out. Velva tried to get up to follow him and called for him to come back, but Claudine held her in her chair. Velva whimpered.

  Claudine looked at Artemisia and Lula Ann and mumbled again. The faces of the two women went slack.

  “Really enjoyed the discussion,” Artemisia said. “See y’all later.”

  Lula Ann smiled and nodded as she followed Artemisia from the room. Claudine shut the door behind them and leaned against it. Claude resumed his place behind the desk.

  Velva jerked her head back and forth between the twins. “What the hell is going on? Why did they all leave?”

  Claude smiled. “We have no further need of them, you see. I have figured out who murdered Seamus.”

  “M-m-murdered? What do you mean?”

  “Why did you do it, Velva?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Velva’s expression hardened. “What reason would I have to kill Seamus? You’ve gone completely off your rocker.”

  She started to stand but Claudine shoved her back into the chair. Velva yelped and squirmed. Claudine held firm until the woman stopped moving.

  “Why don’t you tell us a little about your family?” Claude leaned forward. He watched as she tensed at the word family. “We really don’t know that much about you.”

  Velva glared at him. “Why the hell do you want to know about my family? They’re none of your damn business.”

  Claude nodded at his twin. Claudine stepped forward and held the photograph of Rita Child in front of the stripper.

  Velva’s hand trembled as she accepted the photo. “Who’s this supposed to be?” The attempted bravado in her voice only convinced Claude further that he was right.

  “That’s your cousin R
ita. She used to own the bar before my sister and I took it over.”

  Velva didn’t respond.

  “Claudine and I—and our sister Claudette—got to know Rita pretty well, although I don’t remember her ever mentioning you.”

  “Maybe because I don’t know who the hell she is.” Velva gave a strained laugh. “And she don’t know me from Adam, either.”

  Claude glanced at the gaudy handbag on the floor by Velva’s chair. He nodded to his sister, and Claudine picked it up to hand to him.

  “So if I open this, I won’t find anything to connect you to Cousin Rita?” Claude grasped the bag, ready to pull it open and dump its contents on the desk.

  Velva jumped up and tried to jerk the bag out of his hands. Claudine grabbed her by the neck, and Velva sputtered as her airway constricted. Claudine shoved her down in the chair, but this time she kept her hand on Velva’s neck. The stripper breathed hard, her expression one of panic.

  Claude opened the bag and emptied it. Loose tissues, tubes of lipstick, keys, coins, wrapped pieces of candy, a pack of gum, and other items clattered on the desk. Claude set the bag aside and surveyed the jumble.

  “I bet this might tell us something.” He picked up Velva’s cell phone. The stripper moaned.

  Claude played with the phone, a model similar to the one Jeff had. He noticed that Velva had a new text message. He clicked on the icon and read it.

  He looked up at Velva. “Interesting. You say you don’t know Rita Child, but here she is, sending you text messages.” He smiled, and Velva shrank back in fear.

  “Here’s what Rita has to say, Claudine. One down two to go.” He scrolled backward through the conversation. “Here’s a little tidbit from you to Rita. Lemon juice worked like you said. Then there is a smiley face. Wish it worked on my freckles like it did on the fairy.”

  Velva squealed as Claudine’s grip on her neck tightened once again. She started babbling, “Please don’t kill me,” over and over.

  “Did Rita ever tell you how she knew about us?” Claude asked when Velva’s breath gave out and she stopped talking.