Double Shot

by Cindy Blackburn

  “Densmore and Sass,” Wilson said and buzzed them in.

  I glanced at my friends. “Help me.”

  Actually, everyone could have used some help when Tiffany made her entrance. The word spectacle comes to mind. The girl—and I do mean girl—was clad in an outfit that made Candy Poppe look like an old-fashioned schoolmarm. Her skirt, fire-engine red, was shorter than Candy’s by a good inch or two, and her silver high heels were higher.

  I forced my eyes to move upward, and ascertained she was also wearing one of those push-up bras Candy is always extolling. The contraption was clearly straining in a heroic effort to uphold all Tiffany had to offer on that front.

  Even Puddles, who was used to Candy’s less than modest fashion sense, was astounded. He refrained from destroying my left shoe in order to stare at Miss La-Dee-Doo-Da.

  “Oh boy,” Karen said.

  Candy popped out of her seat. “I promised you some champagne, didn’t I, Jessie?”

  I agreed that would be nice and shifted my focus to Russell Densmore. Hard to imagine, but the Lieutenant’s outfit almost rivaled Tiffany’s.

  I pointed to his purple—and I do mean purple—suit. “I thought Halloween was next month.”

  “You’re one to talk.” He gestured to my hair. “Eddie.”

  “Sit down, Russell.” I patted the cushion next to me.

  Candy looked up from her task to compliment Russell’s yellow bow tie, and Karen admired his purple fedora. It was indeed impressive how well his hat coordinated with his suit, right down its lemon yellow feather accent.

  This, of course, is what captured Snowflake’s attention. She found a spot on the couch back behind Russell and settled down to do some serious tapping.

  Trying to ignore the cat on his hat, Russell explained how he and Tiffany had spent the evening in the lobby of the Wade On Inn’s hotel.

  “We went undercover as a prostitute and her pimp,” she elaborated.

  “Yes, Tiffany,” I said. “I see that.”

  Wilson had been taking an inordinate interest in the tea preparations, but must have noticed my tone. He looked up and started, as if seeing her for the first time. “For God’s sake, Sass,” he said when he came to his senses. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it over.

  “Gosh, what did you do?” Candy asked as Tiffany donned the jacket. “You know? When someone asked—you know?”

  “We stayed in the lobby and pretended to argue the whole evening,” Russell answered. “At one point the desk clerk even threatened to call the police on us.”

  “That’s because you were so good at scolding me.” Tiffany shook her finger at Russell and then looked at me. “The Lieutenant—my pimp—kept insisting I’m way too picky.”

  If only.

  I sighed dramatically and gestured for Tiffany to join Russell and me on the couch. But instead she pulled over a barstool and perched on that. Her pose afforded those of us in lower seats an excellent view of her ridiculously long legs.

  “I love your place, Jessie,” she said. “It’s so sleek and modern-looking. This is way nicer than your house, Captain.”

  Than your house, Captain?

  I blinked twice and shifted my gaze to Wilson. But my soon-to-be ex-beau was pretending to help Candy with the champagne cork.

  I turned to Karen and mouthed another “Help me,” but she also avoided me. She sprang from her seat, asked if she could get anyone else a beer, and scurried away to the kitchen.

  I tried Lieutenant Densmore. “I suppose you, too, have some pressing business in my kitchen?”

  Bless his courageous heart, Russell remained seated and even had the decency to look me in the eye. “The Captain has the whole department out to his place every year, Jessie. For his Fourth of July party.”

  “It’s a great party,” Tiffany added. “You should come next time, Jessie.”

  You can imagine how thrilled I was by her gracious invitation? I resumed glaring at my beau, who finally summoned up the testosterone necessary to look at me.

  “Jessie will definitely be there,” he said and reminded the group we hadn’t even known each other the previous July. He nudged Candy and waved to Karen, who seemed to be trying to hide behind the refrigerator. “I hope you’ll both come, too?”

  My friends murmured polite acceptances, and proof positive that there is a God in heaven, Candy finally, finally, poured some champagne.

  She made sure to serve me first and sat down with a glass for herself. Karen must have decided there’s safety in numbers. Corona in hand, she found her seat also.

  Meanwhile Wilson served tea to his colleagues, maneuvered himself around the Sass legs, and found a place on the couch between Russell and me. Even Puddles and Snowflake settled down and decided to share the space under the coffee table.

  It was all so civilized, let me tell you.

  ***

  “You first, Densmore,” Wilson said. The goal, he explained to us non-cops, was to share our theories about the murders. “If you had to name the murderer right now, who would it be and why? Convince me.”

  “The Captain always calls a meeting like this when an investigation gets complicated,” Tiffany elaborated. “He says it’s a good way to review what we have.”

  “You learn anything at the hotel tonight?” Wilson asked Lieutenant Densmore.

  “Nothing,” Russell answered. “Plenty of stuff was happening, but it had nothing to do with Lupo. The murders weren’t about the hotel, sir. The bar’s the key.”

  “Your theory?”

  “Henry Jack.” Russell reminded us that Henry believed Fritz Lupo should have died thirteen years ago, and that he’s overprotective of the Quinns. “And don’t forget Pastor Muckenfuss,” he added. “The guy hates gays.”

  “Yeah, but Henry doesn’t.” That was Karen.

  “Talk to me,” Wilson said.

  She winced. “It wasn’t the easiest subject to bring up, but I forced myself.”

  “And?” Russell asked.

  “And I made some incredibly rude comment that some of the guys hanging out at the pool table looked gay to me, and Henry Jack asked who. I had to think fast, so I said Kevin.”

  I may have gagged on my champagne.

  “So we stopped dancing,” Karen continued. ”And watched the pool table, thinking about gays, I guess. But Henry was totally bored with the subject. When the Feeters started singing, we got back to dancing.”

  Candy and I shrugged at each other, and don’t ask me how, but I remembered the details. “Rupert and Bunny,” I said.

  “They’re married,” Karen enlightened us.

  “Excuse me?” That was Wilson.

  “Rupert and Bunny Feeters.”

  He took a deep breath. “Henry Jack,” he reminded her. “What’s he think about gays?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you guys. Henry doesn’t care about anyone’s love life. He tries to mind his own business.”

  “Come on, Karen,” I had to argue. “Henry Jack is always thumping his Bible at someone or other. He’s very judgmental.”

  Puddles had again found my left shoe. I reached down to take it away from him. “You know, though,” I said as I sat back up. “He didn’t make an appearance at the pool table tonight. I got through an entire evening without a warning that I’m headed straight to Hell for shooting nine ball.”

  “I can’t believe Henry killed those people just because they play pool,” Karen insisted.

  “What about immigrants then?” Russell asked. “Muckenfuss hates immigrants.”

  “First of all, Angela wasn’t an immigrant. And Henry isn’t Muckenfuss.” She shrugged at Russell. “Sorry, but before you go condemning Henry, you should know he’s left the Zion Tabernacle.”

  “Since when?” several of us asked.

  “Since Elsa refuses to go to church in an old warehouse. Henry’s determined to find a place she’s willing to attend.”

  “How’d this come up?” Wilson asked.

  “That wa
s kind of weird, actually. He brought it up without me even asking.”

  Wilson turned to Russell. “So the bouncer’s suddenly distancing himself from Muckenfuss?”

  Russell nodded. “And why would he do that?”

  “I hear you,” Wilson answered. “He know about the gun under the pool table?”

  Candy chimed in, “Yes, he did. Henry’s the one who told Mackenzie about it.”

  “Mackenzie!?” several of us reacted.

  I took a large sip of champagne. Wilson reached for my glass and did the same, and Candy got up to retrieve the bottle.

  “Mackenzie says she remembers seeing the gun,” Candy continued as she refilled her glass. She handed the bottle off to Tiffany before sitting back down.

  I watched Tiffany pour and marveled at the surrealistic quality of the moment. Tiffany Sass was sitting in my condo in a red sequined miniskirt, sipping champagne out of a tea cup.

  Meanwhile Candy was explaining how Mackenzie Quinn came to know about the stupid gun. “She used to play under the pool table when she was real little. Until Henry pulled her out and scolded her never, ever, to play there again.”

  “So Henry must have known the gun was there?” Karen grimaced. “He told me he doesn’t allow guns in the bar. Not after what happened to Lester Quinn.”

  “He lies,” Russell concluded. The champagne bottle had made its way from Tiffany, to me, and to Wilson. Russell took it next and poured some into his empty tea cup.

  Karen went to fetch herself another beer.

  “What’s your theory?” Wilson asked Candy. “Not Mackenzie, I take it.”

  “Gosh, no. And I don’t think it’s Spencer or his wife anymore either. Not after what Mackenzie told me tonight.”

  “Which was?” Wilson asked.

  Candy blinked. “I need to ask something first—is that guy Kevin a cop, or isn’t he?”

  Kevin? I sat up straight as Wilson assured Candy that Kevin Cooper was not a cop. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “Because I think he’s the guy, okay?”

  I ignored my beating heart. “Umm, Sweetie?” I said oh so calmly. “Why do you think the librarian did it?”

  “Because Kevin was Angela’s new boyfriend.”

  “What!?” I screeched, and everyone jumped.

  Wilson turned to study me with that extremely intense cop-like stare of his. Karen, Tiffany, and Russell sat forward to stare also.

  Luckily I had woken up the pets. Snowflake simply hopped into Wilson’s lap, but Puddles decided to take a few frenzied laps around the condo. That puppy was doing his level best to distract my beau from noticing the stricken look on my face, but somehow I doubted his tactics were working.

  “Remember how you asked me to find out about Angela’s new boyfriend, Jessie?” Candy stood up and began tossing one of Snowflake’s balls to amuse her dog. “Kevin and Angela started dating right before she got killed. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

  Oh, dear Lord, please let it be a coincidence.

  “I’ve never trusted guys who wear sandals,” Karen mused philosophically. “Jess hates them, too.”

  I may have whimpered.

  “You have an opinion on Kevin Cooper?” Wilson was still frowning at me.

  “I don’t like his taste in shoes.”

  “Me neither,” Tiffany chimed in as she got up to find a second ball. Puddles was having a grand time, indeed. “But we live in the wrong town to be hating guys in sandals.”

  I do believe Russell was about to offer his opinion of men’s footwear, but Wilson stopped him. “Kevin Cooper?” he reminded us.

  “Mackenzie kept saying I’d never guess in a million years about Angela’s new boyfriend,” Candy continued. “So I made it kind of a game and asked her about almost every guy at the Wade On Inn.

  “We started at the bar, and then moved on to the dance floor, and then to the pool table people. Mackenzie said no to Avis Sage, which I kind of knew, anyway.” Puddles barked and Candy remembered to toss. “And we’d already talked about Spencer and Bobby.” Candy threw up her hands. “So who all was left?”

  “Kevin Cooper,” everyone but me answered.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for strength.

  “Mackenzie says they were madly in love,” Candy assured us.

  “But they kept this relationship secret?” Wilson’s tone implied all kinds of insidious possibilities.

  “Supposedly Kevin would lose his job if people knew they were dating.”

  “But, why?” That was Karen.

  “Exactly!” Candy tossed the ball with extra gusto. “Why would it matter who some librarian guy was with? It wouldn’t, unless he planned on killing her.”

  “Sorry, but I still don’t get it,” Karen said. “Why would Kevin kill Angela? You just said he loved her.”

  “Good point.” I nodded vigorously. “Very good point.”

  “I bet he’s one of those crazy guys you always hear about,” Candy answered confidently. “The quiet ones in glasses always end up killing people.”

  “Did he know about the gun?” Wilson asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “What about Fritz?” Wilson asked Candy. “What’s your theory there?”

  She pursed her lips in concentration. “I haven’t thought about him. I guess I’ve been more interested in Angela.”

  She grabbed Puddles’ leash from the counter and bent down toward her dog, who had given up on fetch and found one of Karen’s work boots instead.

  Karen noticed also and asked if our party was going to end anytime soon. “I’m exhausted. And if Puddles eats any more of my shoes, I’ll have to go shopping tomorrow.”

  Wilson asked everyone to hold on for a few more minutes, but Candy excused herself anyway. “We’ll be right back,” she promised. “But Puddles can’t hold on for a few more minutes.”

  I turned to Wilson. “Trust her on this one.”

  Chapter 25

  Wilson and Snowflake watched in unison as the door closed behind Puddles. Eventually he turned to Karen. “Your theory?”

  “I still think it’s Bobby,” she said, and Tiffany gasped.

  “Remember his dude ranch dream?” Karen asked. “He’s dying to buy the Wade On Inn, but with Angela helping Elsa with the bookkeeping, he didn’t have a chance.”

  She glanced at Russell. “Which is another reason Henry looks innocent to me. Angela was helping Elsa sort through her finances. Henry wouldn’t hurt anyone helping Elsa.”

  “Why would Decker kill Fritz Lupo?” Wilson asked her.

  “Well, that’s not so clear,” she admitted. “But Fritz won lots of money the night he died, right? And you guys never found it?”

  The three cops nodded.

  “Bobby needed that money,” Karen concluded.

  “Exactly!” Tiffany slapped her very bare thighs and we all jumped. “I’ve been trying to convince the Captain about Bobby all week,” she said. “That’s where we were when you called today, Jessie.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We took a road trip to visit Bobby’s mother.” Tiffany bounced a bit. “I love your car! It’s way nicer than the Captain’s truck.”

  I thanked her for noticing as Wilson informed us they had driven to Charlotte.

  “It’s just like you’re saying.” Tiffany beamed at Karen. “Clyde Decker—he’s Bobby’s brother—is really successful, and his mother Annie couldn’t be more proud. But when we asked about Bobby? Both of them seemed,” she looked at Wilson, “how would you put it, Captain? Disappointed?”

  Karen sat forward. “Do they know about the dude ranch plan?”

  “They sure do.” Tiffany bobbed her head. “Annie Decker told us Bobby’s been talking about it for ages. And,” she paused for affect, “he called her last week and told her the Wade On Inn is about to fold so he can buy it.”

  “No!” Karen exclaimed.

  “Yes!” Tiffany exclaimed back.

  The two of them were smiling at each
other in mutual admiration when Candy and Puddles returned.

  Amazingly, Puddles settled himself for a nap on her lap, as Candy figured out what she had missed. She looked back and forth between Karen and Tiffany. “Do you guys have the same theory?” Candy Poppe may not be the coldest champagne in the fridge, but she does read people pretty well.

  “Decker,” Wilson told her and then resumed questioning the Bobby Decker contingent. “Did he know about the gun?”

  “Bobby’s been a regular at that bar, like, forever,” Tiffany answered. “Don’t you think he knew?” She waved at me. “Even Jessie’s mother knew about the gun.”

  Despite myself, I felt compelled to agree. “It defies logic that my mother would know, and Bobby wouldn’t.”

  “Your mother often defies logic,” Wilson mumbled. “But what about Lupo?” he asked Tiffany. “Do you agree with Karen? That he killed him for his gambling winnings?”

  “No,” she answered. “I agree with Jessie there.”

  “Me!?” I cried.

  “The Captain told me your theory, Jessie—that this was all about Angela? I’m almost positive Bobby killed Angela, and then Fritz figured it out, so Bobby had to kill him, too.”

  She waved a few fingers at Karen. “You’re probably right also. Once Fritz was dead, why not clean out his wallet?”

  “Exactly!” Karen exclaimed. “And Bobby was AWOL from the Wade On Inn tonight. What’s up with that?”

  Tiffany’s face dropped. As did Wilson’s. And Russell’s. And before I could even fathom why, Russell was springing from his seat, rushing to the door, and pulling a cell phone from of his purple pocket.

  “Send someone he won’t recognize.” Wilson began issuing orders. “If they can ID him without actually presenting themselves, even better.” Russell made it out to the hallway. “And I want a report, pronto!”

  Lieutenant Densmore shut the door behind him, and my friends and I blinked at each other as it dawned on us what was happening.

  Candy started chewing her knuckle, and Karen settled her Corona onto the coffee table with an unsteady hand. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said.

  “Wilson!” I pleaded, my poor menopausal heart beating double-time. “Don’t tell us Bobby’s dead, too!”