I wore black high-heeled pumps on top of a pair of pink and black argyle knee socks I’d found in the bottom of my drawer right on top of my first surveillance pictures of Jack and Greta Pritchard.
I went braless under a stretchy white knit top, leaving the buttons undone. The distance between the top’s knot under my breasts and the band of my skirt was interrupted by my belly button ring.
Hopefully it wouldn’t be my only souvenir from a has-been career.
The ensemble was topped off with a pair of fake glasses and my hair pulled into two low ponytails. I was every high school boy’s fantasy.
My mother would not understand any of it.
“Está bien, Mami. It’s just a costume.”
As she shook her head, I seized the moment and hurried down the sidewalk to my car. “Hasta más tarde. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Away from the prying eyes of my mother, I tucked in my Bluetooth earpiece and called Manny.
He answered with a clipped, “Dígame.”
Verbose, Manny was not. Just a tell me was all he needed to say.
“I’ve got a hunch about the Jennifer Wallace case,” I said. Cut to the chase was always the best M.O. with Manny. No small talk. No frivolities. No nada. Nothing but business, and the occasional intense expression that made me think he knew everything about me—which made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Hypothesis?”
“Larry Madrino. Steve Madrino is the trainer for the Royals. Larry is his brother, a fixture at all the games and, I think, may have been in love with Jennifer.” We’d both seen Jennifer’s love trophies, so I didn’t need to explain to el jefe that she didn’t love Larry back. “He had motive and opportunity.”
“How are you going to prove it?”
The very question I’d been asking myself all evening. “I’m going to finish up a different lead first. I have a list of Jennifer’s Facebook friends. I’m going to cross-reference them with the membership at Cuerpo y Alma and see if any match. If they do, I’ll follow those up. If they don’t, then that’s another finger pointing at Larry.”
He grunted, but I sensed it was a grunt of approval. “Get back to me when you find something out.”
He was the boss. It was a given that I’d report back to him. “Por supuesto,” I said.
My finger itched to dial Jack, but I resisted. He said he’d talk to me later. Whenever he’d dealt with Sarah—again. Which must not be done yet.
And I had a job to do. I’d think about him later. Instead, I called Lucy, immediately launching into her for telling Zac about our field trip to the nudist resort.
“I’m sorry, Lola. Really. I tried, but you were right. He knew we were up to something. I had no choice.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“Marriage.”
“Yeah, marriage.”
“What are you doing tonight? It’s almost Halloween!”
“Nada,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t remember the Halloween Ball Craig had told us about.
But she did. “Oh my God, you’re going, aren’t you? I promise I won’t tell this time. Lola, you cannot go back there without me!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Pft. Yes, you do. You’re going to that costume ball.”
I couldn’t lie to her. “If you say one word, I’ll never speak to you again.” A totally empty threat, because life without Lucy would be way too dull, but still…
“It’s a naughty ball,” she said, barely holding in her giggles.
“And I made myself a naughty outfit, so no es problema.”
She squealed, demanding to know the details. I filled her in on the plaid skirt, the sheer top, and the knee socks.
“And nothing underneath? Lola, I’m shocked. No, I’m flabbergasted. No, no, I’m stunned speechless.”
Speechless would be a good thing. “One word,” I said. “Thong.”
But I might as well have been stark naked by how guilty I felt.
“Ohhhh.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice, but she covered it up the next second with her own one word. “Bra?”
“Nope.”
“What color is the top?”
“White.”
“Hmmm.”
Hmmm, indeed. Another reason I hadn’t been able to open my trench coat for my mother. Perky dark nipples on a brisk night and thin, knit white fabric did not go together. Of course, chances were that I’d be overdressed compared to the nudists. “And you’re just going to be in and out of there?”
“Assuming Tiffany or Craig will let me have a peek at the membership list.”
“You sure you don’t want to wait and go tomorrow? In the daylight?”
That idea was a lot more appealing than the event I was about to experience, but I couldn’t put it off. I told her about my worry for Selma, my theory about Larry, and then said, “It can’t wait.”
And it couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cuerpo y Alma’s parking lot was overflowing. Everybody loved a good nudist Halloween bash, it seemed. After I found a parking space, I sat in the safe cocoon of my CRV, ogling the nudists’ bare bodies as they headed inside. Most of them weren’t so much wearing costumes as strategically placed accessories.
As I watched the skimpy costumes parade by, I shook my head. ¡Ay, caramba! Since when did Mardi Gras beads and a sequined mask constitute a costume? A couple passed by the passenger window of my car and I couldn’t help but stare. The man was entirely red, from head to foot, and wore devil ears and carried a pitchfork. The woman had flames painted on her body with bursts of fire centered on her breasts.
Body paint. I knocked the heel of my hand against my forehead. Of course!
I had a sudden feeling of relief. Magdalena Cruz may not have approved of my costume, but I was positively relieved at how blissfully covered I was compared to what I was seeing.
Leaving my trench coat behind and bolstering all my Xena strength, I headed in. A knot of guilt formed in the pit of my stomach anyway, and my heartbeat felt like a jackhammer had taken over. Having Lucy with me the first time I’d been here had been a huge confidence booster. Handling this leg of the investigation solo? Un poquito scary.
I hesitated at the door to the office, my hand on the knob.
“Going in?” a woman said behind me.
I tried to answer but ended up staring at her elaborate costume. She was painted like Poison Ivy from Batman, complete with shading on the leaves twining around her limbs.
“Y-yes,” I said.
My first order of business? Talk to Tiffany about getting a copy of the member list. I turned the knob and went in, Poison Ivy and a group of other partygoers right behind me. I backed up against the shelf, knocking over supplements and nudist knick-knacks in my hurry to move out of the way. I started to straighten them up, darting to the counter when the front office was finally empty. Only one woman remained. She wore a long dark wig, heavy eye makeup, black lipstick, and a chain belt slung low on her hips. And nothing else. She had to be Elvira. Or Morticia Addams. AKA Tiffany.
“Hey, remember me?” I asked her over the low, driving beat reverberating through the walls. It took her a few seconds, but when recognition finally dawned, she darted a glance behind her. In case Craig had slipped in unnoticed and heard who—or what—I really was? “The detective,” she said to me when she turned back around. “Your costume’s not exactly nude.”
“I thought sexy and suggestive was okay for this?” According to what Craig had said on the phone, or had that just been a ploy to get me here? I cringed inside, but outside I just remained muy calm. “I don’t think I could pull off the schoolgirl thing if I took off anything else.”
She seemed to consider. “Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “I guess it’ll be okay.”
“I don’t plan to stay long. I was hoping I could go through your member list.” She shook her head and opened h
er mouth, but to shush her I held up the tub of protein powder I still held. “Wait. Hear me out,” I said, quickly putting the tub back on the shelf. “I have Jennifer Wallace’s Facebook friend list. I just want to cross-reference to see if anyone is on both.”
“There will be—”
She broke off as a few more costumed nudists came through the office, signed in, and proceeded into the banquet hall where the party was. The music grew louder as she opened the door, fading again as it closed after her.
I waited until we were alone again, then said, “I know. Selma Mann. You. Craig. Dierdre. But I need to know if there are others.”
Her dark, goth eyebrows furrowed. “Why? What good will it do? It’s not like she was killed because she was a naturist.”
“Actually, we don’t know why she was killed; that’s the point. She was divorced. She had quite a few boyfriends. She kept parts of her life pretty hidden. And it seems as though maybe somebody didn’t like that. I’m trying to figure out who that might have been.”
“Naturists are gentle. They’re real, you know? They wouldn’t get mixed up in anything sordid like murder, and she didn’t mess around with a bunch of boyfriends.”
“She had an apartment—”
“It’s a cottage—”
“No, no. I mean in Sacramento.”
Tiffany cocked her jet black brows at me like I was crazy. “I’ve heard what people are saying about her, but they’re wrong. She didn’t have another apartment. She still owned this place with Craig. She had her cottage here. She didn’t need anyplace else.”
I let this information trickle through the crevices of my mind. Either Tiffany didn’t know Jennifer very well, or the apartment with all the jerseys and pictures of men didn’t actually belong to Jennifer. What if it was a front for someone else? Selma?
I kept my thoughts to myself and went back to my goal. The membership list. “I just want to see if I can figure out who killed her.”
Tiffany frowned, considering, then shook her head. “I just can’t do that.” She leaned toward me, lowering her voice. “If Craig found out, I could lose my job.”
I didn’t want her livelihood put in jeopardy, but I needed to see that list. “He won’t find out. Tiffany, Jennifer was murdered. The police think that apartment was hers. You’re saying it wasn’t. I need to find out the truth and I need your help.”
Another group of nudists barreled through the lobby on their way to the party—a body-painted Scooby led the way, followed by X-rated versions of Shaggy, Fred, Thelma, and Daphne. They glanced at me, each of them scoping me out with a full up and down perusal. Fred’s eyebrows pulled into a V and Thelma adjusted her fake thick black glasses. “Britney Spears, or are you from the old Van Halen video?”
Shaggy guffawed and slapped his bare leg. “‘Hot for Teacher,’ right? Smokin’, dude!”
“You got it. Doing it different tonight and actually wearing some clothes.” I could almost feel my nose growing. “Who knows what’ll come off later?” I added with a wink.
“Now you’re talking,” Shaggy said with his trademark warbly voice. “Catch you inside, schoolgirl.”
I threw up my hand in a flip wave, trying to mask the ick factor rolling over me. Cheesy pickup lines were bad enough in a good situation. Coming from a naked Shaggy, they were downright disgusting.
“You got it,” I managed, then quickly turned my back and pretended to examine the supplements and knick-knacks on the shelves while they checked in and finally passed through the door to the party.
As soon as they were gone, Tiffany beckoned me over. “I’ll let you see the names, but Craig’ll be back any minute and he’ll fire my ass if he finds out. You better hurry!”
I didn’t waste a single second. I threw the tub of powder back onto the shelf and practically catapulted across the small room and over the counter. “So how do you keep track of the guests?”
Tiffany had a wary eye on the door, but she pulled out a card file and set it on the counter. “Everyone has to check in here. We take the information card to verify the ID, collect the usage fee, and that’s it.”
“What about your computer?” I asked.
“I’m setting it up, but it’s not ready yet.”
¡Ay, caramba! Not only did they live without clothes, they’d been living without technology. “So anyone can come at any time.”
“Right. A membership entitles you to certain perks, but otherwise, we’re open to the public.”
“And you never saw Jennifer with anyone in particular?”
She shook her head. “She knew everyone.”
Which made it difficult to hone in on her special friend.
I reached for the cards, but Tiffany zipped her mouth shut as a woman, wrapped in toilet paper, sauntered into the office. She checked in, then sashayed through the door to the party room.
Tiffany’s voluminous chest rose and fell with her breaths. “You have to hurry,” she said nervously. What, did she think Craig could materialize out of thin air?
“I will.” I put my hand on the index card file she’d set on the counter, but she held tight to it. “I promise,” I added when she didn’t let go.
Finally she released it to me. “Don’t tell a soul,” she said, her voice low. “This place is an oasis for people. A sanctuary. It’s private.”
“Got it.” The door opened again and the partygoer turned sideways to fit through the opening. Clear and white balloons attached to her bod, hitting the doorjamb as she passed. “Sorry. Omph! There we go.”
As she muttered to herself, a red flag shot up in my head. That voice. I turned to face the door. “Lucy?”
She maneuvered the last balloon through the door and whipped around to face me, her grin wide and toothy. “In the flesh.”
I couldn’t believe she’d said that with a straight face. She had a shower cap on her head, rosy cheeks, balloons from her torso to her shoulders, and below the waist she had a blue tutu.
“Is that supposed to be water?” I asked, poking my finger at the tulle.
“Clever, right? It’s Mia’s. Zac helped me with it.”
My brain screeched to a halt. She’d used her daughter’s tutu and—“Zac helped you? As in your husband knew you were coming here?”
She gave a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t really hide it from him—”
I sputtered, steam gathering in my head, but she hurried on. “It’s okay, Lola. He didn’t tell a soul, I promise.”
Tiffany glared at Lucy. “You didn’t tell me you were married last time. You can’t come in without your spouse.”
“No problem,” Lucy said brightly, adjusting one of her balloons.
Another red flag shot up. I grabbed her arm and yanked her aside. “No problem? What do you mean, no problem?” I said more harshly than I’d intended, but I had a sinking suspicion that I wouldn’t like what she was going to tell me.
She shook her arm free. “He didn’t want me to come alone. H-he’ll be here in just a minute.”
My head suddenly felt stuffed with cotton. “Here? He’s coming here?” Zac…my primo…my cousin…at Cuerpo y Alma? My tía Marina already thought I was corrupting my niece, Chely, what with my independent streak and P.I. job. Now la familia Cruz would blame me for bringing Zac and Lucy to a nudist resort. Dios mío.
But behind the counter, Tiffany gave a satisfied dip of her chin. “Good.” Then she glanced at the wall clock. “Ticktock,” she said.
Right. Craig could waltz through the door any minute. I prioritized my thoughts. Membership list first. My cousin showing up here second.
Tiffany led Lucy and me into a room next to the office and handed me several more plastic boxes filled with file cards just like the ones we’d filled out the day we’d come with Selma. “Everyone’s in here?”
“Yes. Now hurry,” she said, scurrying back out to the front when the front door slammed and we heard the excited voices of more naked partygoers.
“Who’s the target?” Lucy asked
, peering at the cards over her shimmering balloons.
I swallowed my anger at Lucy for telling Zac about my plan tonight, pushing it into the same compartment in my mind where Jack and Sarah and my future were hiding. “Anybody who’s a member here who’s also on this list,” I said, producing the printout of Jennifer Wallace’s bazillion Facebook friends.
Lucy eyed the list skeptically. “Really? I don’t have a photographic memory.”
Neither did I, which was why I’d spent two hours alphabetizing the names and organizing them so I could scan by the first letter of the last name.
We put the list between us. “I’d have made a copy if I’d known you were coming to help me.”
“You’re a detective. I figured you’d deduce that there was no way I’d leave you alone at this place.”
It had occurred to me, but I never thought Zac would be down with it. And would be coming, too.
I slammed the door on my thoughts and focused on the job at hand, peering through my fake glasses and tossing one ponytail behind my shoulder. Lucy was already sifting through her stack of index cards, glancing at the name then quickly cross-referencing on the printout before discarding it.
I did the same, and one by one, the stack of cards showing who was both a member of Cuerpo y Alma and a Facebook friend of Jennifer’s grew bigger.
Tiffany poked her head in a few times to check our progress. So far, Craig hadn’t shown up. Our luck held until we’d gone through the three containers full of cards. “Thirteen people,” I said when we were finished.
“But you can eliminate a few of them, right?” Lucy asked. “Selma. The woman Dierdre. I don’t think she could hurt a fly. Tiffany. Craig—”
I wish. “Can’t eliminate anyone.”
A man’s voice, loud and boisterous, shot through the closed door and Lucy and I both froze. I held my breath, ready to bolt. But the low, soothing murmur of a woman’s voice cut the tension in the air. Not Craig. I released the breath I’d been holding. My hands trembled at the thought of being discovered searching the files, such as they were.
Bare-Naked Lola (A Lola Cruz Mystery) Page 20
