Jonelle looked down. “Well?” she asked through the window. Her hand motioned for Adrienne to follow. “Come on,” she hissed.
Adrienne’s lips pursed in a straight line. “Can’t I just wait in the car?” she asked, her voice muffled by the window.
Jonelle shook her head. “I need you as backup in case something happens.”
She glared at Jonelle and flung her seatbelt aside. She got out and slammed the door behind her. “Fine,” Adrienne said, her voice tight. “Let’s get this over with. How long you gonna be anyway?”
“Not long. I just need to see their interaction. See how cozy they get.” Jonelle turned and followed the mixed group of patrons up to the club. Adrienne’s heels clicked a few feet behind.
“Looks like they’re taking money and checking ID.”
“Great. I’m actually gonna have to pay for this?”
Jonelle looked over her shoulder. “Will you please stop complaining? I’ve got money for both of us. The client’s paying my expenses for this job.”
Behind her, Adrienne sighed theatrically. Jonelle stood at the entrance and rummaged in her purse for her driver’s license.
The tall, beefy man dressed in black T-shirt and black jeans, held up his hand. “No need to show me your ID and there’s no charge for women. Any of your male friends want to come, the cover is twenty dollars.” Jonelle didn’t know whether or not to be insulted that he didn’t want to see her identification. “Why no charge for women?”
“This is a reputable club. We like to encourage female clientele.”
“Do you need to see my ID?” Adrienne asked. She held up her license.
“Thanks,” the man said, glancing at it and returning her smile.
The aroma of cooked beef and fried onions took both women by surprise. Adrienne sniffed the air. “Hey, that smells good.”
After her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Jonelle searched the expansive room for signs of Henshaw. She spotted him over on the far right, one arm looped around the girlfriend.
“Now you got your answer,” Adrienne said. “Let’s go.”
Jonelle stared in disbelief. “You kidding me? I’m not leaving yet. I’m hungry so let’s sit down, order a drink and something to eat.”
“What about your claustrophobia?”
“If I start to feel weird I’ll head for the door. Concentrating on something, like eating, helps so I should be okay.”
A young woman overflowing in a black lace top bustier and very tight leather shorts strode up to the two women. “Did you ladies come for the show or would you like something to eat.”
“Eat,” Jonelle and Adrienne said in unison.
“Fine. You can sit in the back where the main dining area is, or I can serve you out here in the entertainment section.”
“I vote for the dining area,” Adrienne said. “I have no desire to watch Betty and the booty shakers up close and personal.” Adrienne indicated the dancer entwined around the pole on the stage closest to the two women.
The waitress frowned at Adrienne. “Her name’s not Betty. That’s Amber.”
Adrienne poked Jonelle in the ribs. “I’m guessin’ the synapses aren’t firing on all cylinders tonight,” she muttered.
“Huh? You want Schnapps?”
“Just ignore her,” Jonelle said as Adrienne rolled her eyes.
Jonelle checked the club’s layout. Three circular stages formed a triangle instead of a straight line. The requisite pole occupied the center of each. Above each stage a different colored spotlight illuminated the dancers. Blue on the left, red in the center and yellow at the far end. Dancers performed in time to music piped in from overhead speakers.
A few customers eyed the women as they were escorted to a table with cutlery and drinking glasses already laid out. From Jonelle’s vantage point, if she pushed her chair back a little, she could still see Henshaw entwined around his date.
The waitress took their order for drinks—a vodka and tonic for Jonelle and an apple martini for Adrienne. After the waitress left, Jonelle crinkled her nose in distaste at her friend’s choice of drink. “Really? An apple-tini? Since when do you drink those things?”
“Since I got dragged into spending my Saturday night in a perv palace, that’s when.”
“This place isn’t what I thought it would be,” Jonelle said. “Look around. Nobody in here is naked.”
“Whatever,” Adrienne replied, nose buried in the menu. “I’m gonna order the biggest steak they got, with fries. And a salad with blue cheese dressing. What about you?”
After the waitress delivered the drinks and took their food order, Jonelle kept her eyes on Henshaw. He moved so close to the redhead’s face it looked as if they were sharing the same breath. Jonelle removed her cellphone. “I need a few more shots and this is less conspicuous than the camera,” she said in response to Adrienne’s raised eyebrows. Henshaw leaned in and kissed his date. “Gotta move closer. Look,” she said, holding her cellphone out to Adrienne, “since he hasn’t seen you, why don’t you go over there and take a few pictures without them noticing what you’re doing.”
Adrienne opened her mouth and then shut it again as the waitress returned with two plates of food. Jonelle placed the phone on her lap. After making sure her customers didn’t require anything else the waitress pointed to the phone. “Those aren’t allowed in here,” she said.
“I’m not taking pictures,” Jonelle said. “I have to keep my phone ready in case I get a call from one of my kids.”
Adrienne coughed on the word kids.
“You’re supposed to keep it muted and in your purse. Those are the rules.”
“Fine,” Jonelle said. She dropped the phone inside her bag. The waitress turned to go, looked at the two women over her shoulder and started to say something else. Instead, she shrugged and wandered off.
“Good thing getting involved is not in her job description,” Jonelle said around bites of steak.
“Kids, huh? Fast thinking. By the way, this is really good food. Shame the so-called entertainment is lousy.”
Jonelle ate and kept her eyes focused on Henshaw. “Actually, I was thinking the entertainment over there is pretty good. Look! No! Don’t look. See that?”
“Thought you told me not to look,” Adrienne grumbled.
“Henshaw is doing all he can to consume that woman’s face. Wonder what her name is?” Jonelle’s hand wrapped around the phone. She checked around for the waitress. Not seeing her, Jonelle set the phone on video, tapped the screen and aimed it at Henshaw’s table. “Damn. Too far. I gotta get closer.” Jonelle tucked the camera under her sweater and slid around to the back of the club. As she focused in on Henshaw’s table next to the stage with the yellow light, Jonelle opened the cardigan and recorded him feeding food to his date. Satisfied, she rushed back to her seat.
A few minutes later, the redhead looked at her watch. Next, she cupped Henshaw’s face in her hands. After another long kiss, she got up, gave him a finger wave and headed behind the stage area.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jonelle said as the scene played out before her. “Henshaw’s girlfriend is part of the entertainment.” She finished her drink. “This job’s done.”
“Really?” Adrienne asked. “You finished with him already?”
With the phone on her lap, Jonelle replayed part of the video and nodded. “Picture’s a little dark but you can see who’s who and what’s what. Mrs. Henshaw wanted proof of her hubby cheating on her and I’ve got more than enough evidence. One surveillance case down, one more to go.” Jonelle swirled the ice around in her glass and contemplated whether to order another one.
Adrienne solved the issue when she asked the waitress for the check. “I hope you don’t need my help on this other case,” she said to Jonelle, “’cause I’m not sure I like some of these new experiences you keep getting involved in.”
“The other stakeout is easy. It’s the big case I want to concentrate on.”
“You
got a real case? What is it?”
“Finding out how Susanna Quinley ended up as a homeless person. And … who killed her and why.”
CHAPTER 10
On Monday morning Jonelle sat in front of her computer and looked up the town in Michigan where Susanna worked. She pulled up the website, scrolled through the images and tried to get a feel for the town of Oldenberry. If the photos were an indication of the entire area, the place was very attractive: wood and stone lakeside homes, many with their own docks. Dense wooded areas wrapped around several small waterfalls dotting the landscape. A few more clicks and she landed on the local government site.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Jonelle said. She selected the link to the city commissioner’s office and discovered the contact address and telephone number. She swiveled her chair around, picked up the receiver and dialed the 800 number. After a few rings a chirpy “Hello, commissioner’s office,” sounded in her ear. Jonelle got right to the point.
“Good morning. My name is Jonelle Sweet and I’m a private investigator with Shorter Investigative Services here in Baltimore. I’ve been hired by Sophia Quinley Reyes to investigate how her sister, Susanna Quinley, came to live in Maryland.” Jonelle didn’t want to mention Susanna’s death to this miscellaneous voice over the phone. “Mrs. Reyes informed me that Ms. Quinley was the city treasurer. Is that correct?”
The silence on the other end stretched for so long that Jonelle wondered if she’d been cut off. “Um, hello? Are you still there?”
“Yes. I … uh … need to let you speak to someone else. Hold please.”
Jonelle frowned at the phone. The voice on the other end had gone from happy to guarded at the mention of Susanna’s name. Jonelle wrinkled her nose in distaste as the hold music featured Barry Manilow straining on and on about having made it, or something to that effect.
Just when she thought the song was over, it started again. Midway through the second iteration, Barry was cut off by a man’s voice on the other end of the line.
“This is Chief Commissioner Norman Finkleberg. I’ve just been informed you’re investigating Susanna Quinley. What is this about?”
Jonelle decided telling the man information that was public knowledge wouldn’t hurt anything. “Ms. Quinley, Susanna, was killed less than a week ago. The police are investigating how and why she died.” Jonelle hesitated. No need to mention Susanna lived on the street. “My job is to uncover how she ended up living here in Maryland. In order to do that, I need to know about her life up there.”
Labored breathing came through the line. The man sounded as though he was having a heart attack. “Hello? Mr. Finkleberg, are you all right?”
“No,” he said weakly. “This is too shocking. And on top of everything else. Oh, my God.”
“Tell you what. I don’t think we should discuss Susanna over the phone. I’d like to come up and talk to you. And anyone else who may have known her.” Jonelle reached in the top drawer for her day planner and glanced at the current week. “I’m free later this week. I’d like to find out as much as possible as soon as possible, if you’re available.” Plus, she wanted to talk to him before his health gave out. Poor guy sounded sick.
Once his breathing settled, they set up a meeting for Thursday morning. That would give Jonelle enough time to fly up there Wednesday, rent a car and look around a bit first.
The only concern she had was the distance between the Detroit airport and the Upper Peninsula. Finkleberg assured her it wasn’t as bad as shown on the map.
“Most people fly into Detroit’s Wayne County Airport, and connect into Sault Ste. Marie. From there you can rent a car. It’s only about sixty miles to the town.” Finkleberg took Jonelle’s name, telephone number and email address and said he’d make a reservation for her at the best bed and breakfast in the area. She started to request accommodations for two days, then decided to add Friday, just in case. “I’ll email you the specifics,” he said.
After explaining her plans to Rainey, the receptionist agreed to make plane and rental car reservations for three days and leave the return trip open in the event Jonelle decided to stay an extra day. “I can close the Henshaw case right now,” Jonelle said, standing next to Rainey’s desk. “I’ll type up my report and add copies of the photos and video I took of him and his date. I’ll need you to send everything by registered mail to Mrs. Henshaw, along with the invoice.”
Rainey nodded. “No problem. Do you want me to get the forms ready giving you permission to take your weapon on the plane?”
“Almost forgot that. Definitely. The last thing I need is a hassle from the TSA.”
Rainey scribbled a few notes. “You know the gun must be unloaded and locked in a case, right?”
Jonelle nodded.
“Anything else you need before you go, Jonelle?”
Jonelle looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure what to do with the Polly Cole case. I’m committed to her every night this week, except weekends.”
“What did you plan on doing with that case when you agreed to go to Michigan?”
Jonelle felt her face get warm. “I honestly hadn’t thought that through. I was too excited about the prospect of going up there and talking to people who knew Susanna.” She shrugged. “Any advice?”
Rainey sat back in her chair. She tapped a yellow pencil against her chin.
Jonelle squinted at the receptionist. Was there a pencil stuck in her hair?
“Hmm. How long have you been on this case?” Rainey asked.
“About a week. The kid has gone nowhere in all that time. ’Course with my luck, the first night I’m not there, she’ll bolt.” Jonelle fiddled with her necklace. “Hey. Do you think maybe Ben could help me out this week? It’ll get him away from the dreaded diet for a while. Think I’ll ask him.” Jonelle turned to go.
“Hold it a sec,” Rainey said. “While I agree that of the two guys Ben is the best choice, you still need to approach this the right way. Let me think on this a minute.”
Jonelle passed the time by pacing back and forth. After the third pass, and judging by the look on Rainey’s face, she stopped. As she stood above Rainey she noticed that wedged in the receptionist’s ash blond bouffant was not just one, but two pencils. The yellow implements penetrated the spray-stiffened hair on opposite sides of her head.
“Uh, Rainey,” Jonelle said.
“Hush. I’m still percolating on this.”
Jonelle knew better than to go against Rainey’s wishes, especially while percolating was in progress. She wished Marvin would buzz or the phone would ring. Something.
After what seemed an eternity, Rainey pointed a finger in the air. “Got it.”
“Finally,” Jonelle said under her breath.
“How about this. He’s been almost unbearable because of that darn diet. He complains that all his wife packs him for lunch is a salad or hard boiled eggs. Stuff he wouldn’t touch on a normal basis. Plus the woman is kinda sneaky. She keeps his credit cards so he can’t buy his lunch and I suspect he doesn’t have much cash on him either.” Rainey smiled. “So, how about you offer to pack him three days of good, substantial Ben-style meals and keep them in the fridge here for him to take when he covers for you. What d’you think?”
Jonelle frowned. “I think getting between a husband and wife is a bad idea. Besides, do you really think I can buy his time for a few sandwiches?”
Rainey held Jonelle’s gaze.
“Oh right,” Jonelle said. “Forgot who we’re talking about.”
“It’ll only be for a few days. Just ‘til you get back from the north country.”
Jonelle still wasn’t sure the food idea was a good one, but she couldn’t think of anything else. “Guess it’ll have to do. And you make it sound like I’m going to Alaska.”
Rainey stuck another pencil in her hair. “Might as well,” she said. “Isn’t this place near Canada?”
Jonelle nodded.
“I rest my case,” Rainey turned and looked
at the clock on the wall beside her desk. “Ben should be back before noon. I’ll say you need to see him. Okay?”
Jonelle agreed. She started to mention the pencils but figured Rainey would either remember or the sheer number would cause them to begin falling out of her head. She started down to her office, turned and came back.
“I almost forgot. I know I fly into Detroit, and then connect to that Sue something place. Once I arrive there, how far is it to Susanna’s hometown?”
Rainey turned to her computer. After rapid fire key tapping, she confirmed what Finkleberg had already told Jonelle.
“How big is this airport and why’s it called Sue Saint Marie?” Jonelle frowned. “Never heard of it.”
Rainey spelled it for her which confused Jonelle even more. Seeing her perplexed look, Rainey added, “I think it’s Native American or French. Maybe both. I’ll make sure you get a car with a good GPS.”
The morning passed with few interruptions. She typed up the Henshaw results and a status report on the Cole case. Ben agreed to take over the one remaining assignment. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the kid’ll make a run for it the first night,” he said.
“Just call the mom if she does,” Jonelle reminded him. “If she wants you to notify the police, that’s okay. Nothing else.”
Ben gave her a grocery list and instructions on what to make for two nights of surveillance work. “Better make enough food for three nights, in the event you’re delayed.” He even teased her when she told him where she was going.
“So, you’re takin’ your snow boots and snow pants, parka … all that stuff, right?”
“What is it with you guys? You act as if I’m going to the North Pole.”
“You pretty damn near are. Better pack your passport in case you wander across the border. No telling what those Canucks will do to you, you being an illegal alien and all.” He snorted and left before she could fire back a retort.
With travel arrangements made and her cases taken care of, Jonelle sat back and concentrated on what she’d learned from her brief conversation with the city’s commissioner. While he expressed shock at the news of Susanna’s death, his reaction seemed a bit extreme. She couldn’t wait to find out what she’d uncover once she started asking questions about why Susanna left such an important job.
The Trickster (A Jonelle Sweet Mystery Book 3) Page 7
