by Judi McCoy
Ellie was ready to crawl out when the door opened and someone walked inside, but from this vantage point she had no idea who. Dressed in red spandex pants and wearing bright red slingbacks, the person heaved a sigh, headed for one of the tables across the way, and set a bag on the chair.
A moment later, another person entered, and Ellie remained still as a statue.
“Hey, sugar. You’re here early. Come to welcome me to your headliner world?”
“Nita, baby, it’s good to see you in here. I take it that means it’s official?” The newcomer wore painted-on jeans and a pair of killer black heels with razor-sharp toes. She took a seat and crossed her legs. “You’re Bobbi’s new understudy?”
It was too late to crawl out from under now, unless she wanted to be labeled a fool. Worse, one of the cross-dressers might call the cops.
It was then she saw the spider.
Her heart raced. She hated spiders. And this one was a doozy. With a two-inch spread from leg to leg, it had big, googly eyes and a body the size of a dime. The fact that it was sitting calmly in the middle of a web on the underside of the table did nothing to quell her fear.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the people talking in the room. If she pretended she didn’t see the mini-monster, nothing bad could happen . . . could it?
“It’s about time I got my chance, don’t you think?” queen number one said, easing into her chair.
“If you say so, sugar,” said queen number two. “Any word on when you’ll be takin’ Bobbi’s place?”
Ellie opened one eye and peeked at the spider. Had it inched closer since she’d first seen it?
“Shit, no, but once they go to trial I should be top bitch. I’m still amazed they let that diva back to perform. Killin’ one of her own just ain’t right.”
Ellie sucked in a quiet breath. Between the spider and the drag queens, she didn’t dare move.
“So you think Bobbi really did it? ’Cuz I don’t.”
“What you mean, ‘’Cuz I don’t’?”
“What I mean is there was plenty of people who had it in for Carmella. As far as I know, Bobbi ain’t never said a bad word to her or about her, though Carmella talked enough trash about Bobbi.”
Ellie opened her eyes. This was better than she’d hoped for. Queen number one had to be Nita Zip, the cross-dresser who wanted Carmella’s job. Too bad she didn’t know the name of queen number two.
“And you think one of us did it?”
Nita gave a drawn-out chuckle. “Sugar, you don’t know the half of it. Carmella, she was one stupid bitch. Bragged up one side and down the other ’bout her getting money from some big shot.”
Queen number two’s foot began to twitch. “And you think that’s who did her in?”
“Coulda been, or it coulda been someone else. Carmella got herself arrested for bein’ a skank a half dozen times over the past few years. Before we got Reuben, this place was as busy as Grand Central and just about as open. Anybody coulda walked in lookin’ for Carmella, found her alone, done the deed, and slipped out before they was caught.”
“So you’re sayin’ Bobbi was just—”
“In the wrong place at the right time is all. And there’s somethin’ else nobody knows.”
Ellie held her breath. What! What?
There was a knock on the door. “You two decent?” asked another person.
“Honey, I’m always un-decent, if you get my drift,” joked Nita. “What you need?”
“An opinion,” said the voice in the doorway. “Got me some new titties and Pearl says they’re too big. One of you want to come tell me what you think?”
Nita and queen number two stood and headed for the door. “Girlfriend,” said two, “you couldn’t keep me away.”
The three cross-dressers left in a volley of girlish giggles. Ellie fell to the floor in a heap, looking for the spider. When she saw it was gone, she pushed out the chair and shot to a standing position. Then she did the typical stomp-and-brush dance she’d learned as a child when she thought a spider or other type of bug had landed on her.
At the door, she peeked into the hall and saw a bustle of activity. The number of people walking the corridor had tripled. Stagehands scurried past holding clipboards. A man in a suit pushed a couple of cross-dressers out of his way and received a shout of warning. Reuben and a trio of men were talking near the entry to the seating area, and another stagehand was pushing the ever-present wardrobe trolley to the back of the hall.
After situating the strap of her tote over her shoulder, she stepped into the corridor like she belonged there and aimed for the rear entrance. She’d put Bill Avery on the back burner for now. She’d heard enough to know she had a ton of stuff to go over, and she needed time to process it all.
Charging to the rear door, she checked her watch. She had to pick up Rudy, make her final rounds of the day, and talk Rob into giving her Bitsy. She could call him and offer to keep the poohuahua so he’d be able to spend the weekend with his sister or she could wait here in case he showed up with Bitsy in her tote. She didn’t have a lot of time to hang around, but a couple more minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Opening the rear door onto the alley, she stepped aside to let a trio of performers in and saw more cast members coming her way from the street. Then she saw Rob—without the carrier.
When he noticed her, he broke out in a smile. “Ellie, hi. What are you doing here?”
“Um, waiting for you. I’m glad you’re early.”
“I have to talk with Nita. The producer chose her to replace Carmella, and, well, I don’t want there to be any bad blood, if you catch my drift.”
“So she’s your new understudy?”
“Yep.” His expression grew solemn. “When I first saw you, I thought that maybe you decided to work on my case.”
“Ah, no, not exactly. I mean, I’m here for you, yes, but only because I have a question.”
Jostled by another group of performers, Rob grabbed her elbow and pulled her aside. “I get it. There are too many ears in this place. You’re here on the Q.T. just looking around and all that.” He lowered his voice. “Okay by me, and I really appreciate it.”
Ellie chewed her lower lip. “I haven’t changed my mind about helping you. I just need to ask you something.”
“Sure, sure, fine,” he said, winking. “I understand what you’re saying.”
She raised her eyes skyward, ready to tell him he was an idiot, then changed her mind. The poor guy had been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. He’d grasp at any straw if he thought it threw a positive spin on his situation. “All I’m asking for is Bitsy. Can she spend the night?”
“You want my baby for a sleepover?”
“Just tonight. I miss her.”
“I guess so. When you get to the apartment, tell Kayla I said it was okay.” He swiped a finger alongside his nose, giving her the sign for “This is between you and me.” “See you tomorrow. Just drop Bitsy off after noon.”
She walked to the street and hailed a cab, telling herself she had not deceived her pal. Rob had read the situation wrong, and he hadn’t heard a word she’d said when she corrected him. He’d come up with a story that made him feel secure, and that was all he wanted to believe.
Relieved when a taxi stopped, she slid inside and gave the driver her address. She had to pick up Rudy, make her afternoon runs, and collect Bitsy. Then she would have her first experience with a psychic.
Chapter 11
Sam scanned the details of the stabbing victim’s bank records for the third time. He’d jumped through hoops to get hold of Art Pearson/Carmella Sunday’s accounts this fast, but the news was good. The rumor he’d heard at the club, that Carmella had been into blackmail, looked to be true. The she-male had been depositing ten thousand dollars in cash, split into two accounts, every month for about two years, and he hadn’t been paid that much at any of the venues he’d played before getting the job as Chesney’s understudy.
That mea
nt he might have had two suckers in his pocket, each paying five big ones a month, or he had only one, who had broken the money up to keep the IRS off his case. Either way, the info was a boost to their investigation.
If he believed the old adage—follow the money—all he had to do was connect the dots. Once Rob Chesney’s bank released his transaction records showing monthly withdrawals for the same, they’d be a step closer to wrapping the case. When they figured out what secret Pearson had held over Chesney’s head that warranted five or ten thousand a month, Chesney’s conviction was a lock.
Of course, Chesney had already told them he had nothing to hide. His parents had disowned him in his first year of college, when he’d gone public with his goal of becoming a professional drag queen. His given name had been connected with Bobbi Doll for more than eight years, both on the Internet and around the circuit. He also insisted that he was straight, an unusual but not unheard-of preference in the world of cross-dressers. Sam had looked to confirm the fact with every person he’d questioned, and though many of the queens didn’t know it for a fact, they believed Chesney was telling the truth.
He was so engrossed in studying the records he didn’t think to check caller ID when his phone rang.
“Ryder.”
“Sammy, it’s me,” his mother chimed. “Do you have a couple of minutes?”
He groaned internally. If he said no, Lydia would waste twice that long pestering him about why he didn’t have the time to talk. Better to get the grilling over with ASAP. “Sure, Ma. What’s up?”
“We haven’t seen you or Ellie in a month. Is everything all right?”
He sucked up a second groan. Things between him and Ellie were definitely not all right, but that was none of his mother’s business. “It’s only been three weeks, Ma.” Sam knew because he’d circled the date on his calendar. “And I’m up to my ears in work. I’ve got a high-profile case and a couple more hanging in the background—plus I’m due to testify in court this afternoon on another one.”
“What about Sunday? Julie’s going to be three months old, so we’re celebrating.”
“No can do. I have too much going on.”
His mother waited a beat, as if forming her next question carefully. “What’s Ellie been doing that she’s so busy? I’ve told her she’s welcome to drop in without you.”
His mother had been trying to get Ellie alone for the past couple months, but using the celebration of onequarter of a birth year as the excuse? That was so lame it didn’t even deserve a comment.
“I can’t answer for Ellie. You’ll have to call her yourself,” he said in a casual tone. If he showed any stress over the prospect, his mother would jump down his throat. “You want her number?”
“The number for Paws in Motion is tacked on the front of my refrigerator. I just didn’t want to contact her without your permission.”
My permission? Since when had his mother ever needed his permission to do anything? She was on a fishing expedition, but he refused to get hooked. “It’s fine by me. Just don’t be surprised if she’s busy. Spring’s almost here, so her business is picking up.”
“I didn’t think she walked dogs on Sunday.”
“Not on a regular basis, but she’s been babysitting a client’s dog. She may have to—to house-sit.” Sam inhaled a breath of relief at his logical excuse. “I’m not sure.”
“She always brings that adorable dog of hers here to my house, so what’s one more? Sherry and Susan love Rudy, and Tom does, too. It’s important Julie gets used to dogs, so she won’t be frightened when they finally adopt one.”
He very much doubted that a three-month-old would be frightened of a dog, especially the kinds Ellie owned and walked. Rudy might be a pain in the ass with him, but he was always on his best behavior with Vince’s daughter, Angela, who would soon turn one. And if Ellie was still caring for that hairy hamster of Chesney’s, well, crap, that hound was too small to scare a mouse.
“I’m sure she’ll agree to whatever you want, if you can catch her.”
“Then I have your okay to phone her?”
Sam rested his elbows on the desk blotter. Ellie knew how to navigate around his mother, because she’d been doing the same fancy footwork with Georgette for years. They’d parted on a bitter note yesterday, but that didn’t mean their relationship was over. It was simply on hold until she came to her senses, admitted he was right, and laid off pursuing killers. He trusted her to handle his mother the way she would her own: politely but without spilling secrets, especially things that were best kept between the two of them.
“Yeah, sure. Be my guest. Just don’t be upset if she blows you off.”
“Ellie doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. I’d never take anything she said as an insult, and you shouldn’t either. I see the way you look at her whenever she says something you don’t approve of.”
“Ma, I—”
“Have the two of you talked about moving in together yet?”
“What! Ma, no, I—”
“You should, you know. Sharing living space is the first step modern couples take before they marry, and you’re not getting any younger. I’d like more grandchildren, but Susan and Tom want to wait a while, and Sherry can’t seem to find the right man, so it’s up to you to give me—”
“I gotta go,” Sam said, reining in his temper. “We’ll talk next week.”
Snapping his phone closed, he swallowed a curse. If he hadn’t put an end to the conversation, he would have said a couple of things he’d regret. His mother had used the M word for the first time since she’d known he had a steady girl, and she was testing the waters for more info. She’d calm down eventually, and they’d be back on good terms in a day or so. Until then, he would keep his distance.
Meanwhile, the conversation was a wake-up call. He and Ellie had parted in anger, mostly because of him, and that wasn’t good. But what the hell else was he supposed to do to keep her safe? Since they’d met, she’d been held prisoner in a basement, almost killed by an ex-con, and shot at and nearly poisoned by a nutcase woman.
There had to be some way to teach her the rules. They were so simple even the dumbest of people took them to heart. Just keep your nose clean and stay out of police matters. Period.
“Is that smoke I see coming out of your ears?” asked Vince, strolling into their shared office.
“I just hung up with Lydia.”
“Uh-oh.” His partner grinned. “Another badgering session?”
“Sort of. She means well, but—”
“She also needs to mind her own business. Mothers are like that—just can’t seem to stop meddling in their kids’ lives.” Vince leaned back in his chair, swung his feet onto his desk, and crossed them at the ankles. “Have you talked to the lovely Ms. Engleman lately?”
Sam wanted to kick himself. Served him right for telling Vince about the way he and Ellie last parted. “No.”
“Call her.” Vince raised a brow. “Today.”
“I’m due in court in an hour.”
“Then do it on your way to court, or while you’re waiting to testify.”
“I’ll think about it.” Sam tossed the folder holding Pearson’s bank records on his partner’s desk. “This should cheer you up.”
Vince’s brown eyes roamed the pages, quickly getting the gist of the information. “You’re right. Sponging ten thousand a month from some target is a good reason to get yourself killed. Considering the way the deposits fell, do you think he had one sucker or two?”
“That depends. Could be there was just one mark and Pearson was smart enough to split the money up so the IRS didn’t get wise. But I’d say we definitely have our motive.” Sam stood. “There’s still a lot of digging to do.”
“I take it you’ve already ordered Chesney’s bank records?”
“They should be faxed here before five, but it could need follow-up, and like I said, I’m due in court. Think you can make a couple of calls to confirm the fax?”
Vince flipped open his cell. “I’m on it. You testify, then call me.”
Sam headed out the door, stopping when his partner advised, “And phone Ellie.”
He waved a hand and continued walking. He knew he should do what Vince suggested, but what the hell was he supposed to say?
After her information-packed visit to Rob’s club, Ellie picked up Rudy and they finished three of their stops, ending at the Davenport around five thirty. When they walked into the building, Kronk waved her over, his expression just shy of cheerful.
“El-ee, my dar-link girl. You take care of my favor, yes?”
Oh, crap, no. She’d forgotten to write that letter to the building management like she’d promised. But the last thing she needed was an argument with the Russian bear. She kept on grinning as she came up with a response.
“Uh, I need the address. Once I have that, you’ll be set.”
The doorman fisted his ham-sized hands on his hips. “You write, yes?”
“Sure, I write,” she answered, adding a “will” in her mind. “I just need something giving me the Davenport’s headquarters.”
“I thought I already gave address.”
“If you did, I can’t find it.”
Kronk narrowed his eyes in thought, then reached under the counter and pulled out a business card. “This all I haf. You take and mail letter, yes?”
She dropped the card in her tote bag and headed for the elevator. “You got it.”
“So much for hating to lie,” Rudy scolded as the door closed.
“I didn’t lie. I just omitted a key word.”
“If you say so.”
The yorkiepoo continued to berate her as they picked up Sweetie Pie, Jett, and Buckley. When the pack returned to the foyer, Buckley said, “Hey, aren’t we forgetting someone?”
“Yeah, what about Bitsy and that gigundo pal of hers?” Sweetie Pie asked. “Isn’t he still visiting?”
“I’m taking the two of them out after I bring you home,” Ellie told them. “Bitsy and I have an appointment.”
