Murder Wears a Veil

by Maddie Cochere

  “Are you serious?” I asked incredulously.

  She laughed. “No. I’m just being silly, but until Pete says why they were dressed that way, their attire will likely remain a mystery.”

  She removed my empty plate and set a stack of plates, silverware, and napkins on the table. “If you still want to help, you could set the table in the dining room. I’ve been serving evening meals to a handful of guests who are staying for several days.”

  I was happy to help after having such a delicious meal. I grabbed the stack and arranged the place settings on a lavender tablecloth embroidered with small white flowers. The white tulip centerpiece was elegant and reminded me more of something for a wedding than on a table in a cozy dining room.

  I heard Mabel talking briefly to someone in the kitchen. She soon stuck her head through the doorway and said, “There’s a delivery here for you.” She didn’t wait for a response and returned to the kitchen.

  Her words concerned me. No one knew I was here. How could I possibly have a delivery?

  I finished setting the table and went to check it out. A package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string sat on the table. Mabel handed a pair of kitchen scissors to me.

  “This can’t be good,” I whispered under my breath. I was hesitant as I held the scissors motionless with the string between the blades.

  “Oh, posh,” Mabel said. “It has to be from Addie. It would be just like her to use a delivery service instead of bringing something to you herself. She always did put on airs.”

  I cut the string.

  The contents were definitely from Addie, and she had been shopping. The package held a pair of black jeans, a thin black pullover sweater, and a black sweater coat. The tags on the garments gave my heart palpitations. I would never spend this kind of money on clothes. A plastic bag under the clothing held a few toiletries, as she would call them, and a pair of thick black glasses with no lenses. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

  Mabel picked it up and read aloud. “Be ready nine o’clock. Pull hair back and wear glasses.”

  She handed the note to me. Addie had signed it with only a capital A. Her handwriting was elaborate with loops and curls.

  “She even puts on airs when she writes,” Mabel said with a shake of her head.

  “We’re going to a bar, and she wants me to wear all black and goofy glasses. I don’t get it.”

  “It’s a disguise. Addie’s always been big on disguises. You’re lucky she didn’t send a blonde wig. She used to have dozens of wigs.”

  “I wonder what she thinks is going to happen tonight. I just want to see Pete and ask him what he thinks happened to Natalie and then book it back home. I’ve already met and talked with him in Hawaii. He knows who I am. There isn’t any reason to be secretive.”

  Mabel smiled. “Now, where’s the fun in that? If I know Addie, you’ll be spying on that Pete guy for hours before you approach him.”

  I didn’t want to spy on Pete for hours, but Mabel was probably right about Addie’s intention, and my rational side knew this was a good idea. We would be able to tell a lot from how he acted as well as his interaction with the other people in the bar.

  I gathered up my items. “If nothing else, I appreciate the coat. It’s freezing out there.”

  “Freezing? You’ve never experienced Chicago weather have you? After the winter we just had, it’s downright tropical out there today. It’s in the fifties.”

  “I’m not used to the wind. It cuts right through you.”

  “That it does,” she said.

  I thanked Mabel for dinner and went back to our room. I was grateful for the toothbrush and toothpaste Addie had sent and put them to use right away.

  There had to be something I could do in the next few hours that might shed some light on the case. Who could I call? Maybe I should go somewhere and ask questions? If Addie had told me her plans before we left the house, I would have brought my laptop. All the information pertaining to Natalie’s murder was in one file, and it would have been helpful to go over everything again before talking with Pete tonight.

  I opted to send a text to Glenn and ask him to take some pictures of my whiteboard and send them to my phone. He was probably out on patrol with Clay, but maybe he’d have time to swing by the house.

  I didn’t know my way around Chicago, and I wouldn’t know where to go anyway. I propped myself up on pillows on the bed and turned on the television. I settled on an evening news station.

  When I woke up, it was eight thirty. The black clothing on the bed confused me for a few moments until my brain fog cleared enough to remember it was my disguise for the evening.

  Addie would be here in half an hour. I didn’t want to put up with her smart mouth. I grabbed the clothes and rushed to get ready.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The bald, burly man blocked the doorway to Eve’s Apple. “You’re good,” he said to Addie, “but we have a limit for non-t’s, and we’re already at our limit.”

  “What’s a non-t?” I asked.

  “The fact that you don’t know is all the more reason you’re not gettin’ in.”

  “Oh, come on,” Addie said. “What’s one more? Besides, she’s a close friend of Pete Sinclair. He comes here all the time.”

  “I don’t know no Pete, and she ain’t gettin’ in.”

  Addie had no intention of giving up. She reached in her purse and pulled out a folded bill. I hoped it was more than a dollar.

  “Then she’s a good friend of Ben Franklin.” She attempted to hide the bill in her palm and slip it to him.

  He smiled a toothy grin, exposing one gold tooth. He took the bill, lifted a clipboard from a stool beside him, and made a pretense of checking names. “Yep. Mr. Franklin gets her in the door, but Mr. Jackson would have vouched for her, too.”

  “Dirtbag,” Addie mumbled under her breath and pushed forward into the bar.

  Without making eye contact, I thanked the man and followed Addie.

  I wasn’t prepared for the scene before me. The place was more like a club than a bar. I expected dark corners and loads of black and red. Instead, the room was softly lit to illuminate pale green furnishings with pearl decorations. A small stage held a few colorful characters performing a cabaret style number. Most of the patrons were attractive women, with some of them not attempting to hide the fact that they were men dressed as women.

  Addie pushed forward and found an empty table against the wall to the right of the stage. We had a good view of the people milling around the bar as well as those seated and facing the performance. The only area semi-blocked to us was a small dance floor on the other side of the room.

  I sat down and took off my glasses. They were too small and pinching the sides of my head.

  “Leave them on,” Addie said. “They do a good job of changing your appearance, and we don’t need Pete seeing you and ducking out before we can confront him.”

  “Confront him? There’s no reason to confront him. I just want to know what he thinks happened to Natalie in Hawaii. Who would want to kill her, and why did they do it in wedding attire? Why would we confront him?”

  “He’s guilty. He’s the husband, he owns the timeshare where she was killed, and he had motive – her money.”

  “You don’t know that. He could be innocent.”

  “He’s not, and this is our only chance to catch him by surprise and force him to confess.”

  I put the glasses back on and rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to argue with her. People were already staring at us, and I didn’t want to draw any more attention our way.

  An attractive server arrived to take our drink order. There was a three-drink minimum. Addie ordered Scotch for both of us and asked to have all the drinks brought at once.

  “I’m not drinking,” I said. “I’m not risking getting drunk in a gay bar.”

  Addie smiled. “Oh, honey, this isn’t a gay bar. This is a crossdresser’s bar. These are men who like to dress in women’s c
lothing. Some of them might be gay, but most of them aren’t.”

  I should have known. Sometimes I hated that my worldview was so small. Buxley wasn’t the epicenter of anything cultural, and I didn’t spend much time on social media or the internet in general, so I was lacking in knowledge. I was even guilty of not reading the local newspaper on a regular basis and relied far too much on town gossip for news. I actually felt stupid at the moment.

  Our server brought our drinks, and Addie and I spent the next hour scanning faces in the crowd. I was disappointed. Pete appeared to be a no-show tonight.

  “We might as well leave,” I said. “He’s not here.”

  “It’s early,” Addie said. “This place will be packed by midnight. Just hold your britches and wait.”

  I sipped one of the glasses of Scotch. Most of the ice had melted and watered the drink down. It went down easy.

  Once again, Addie was right. By midnight, the number of people in the club had increased significantly. All three of my drinks had been sipped away, and I was tired and bleary-eyed. I found the evening’s performances to be entertaining and enjoyable, but I was done watching for Pete and ready to go back to Mabel’s and hop into bed. I yawned loudly and didn’t bother covering my mouth.

  “Hey, doll, you look fabulous. Want to dance?”

  The strikingly handsome woman had leaned down to address Addie. I didn’t know if I found it amusing or disgusting when Addie batted her eyes and replied demurely, “I’d love to, sailor.”

  With a flourish of her hand, the woman grasped Addie’s hand and whisked her away to the dance floor.

  Under normal circumstances, I would have felt uncomfortable sitting alone, but I was too tired to care. When Addie came back from her dance, I was going to insist we leave right away.

  A pretty girl with long blonde hair and a great smile sat down in Addie’s vacated seat. “Hi. Do you mind if I join you?”

  I fumbled for words. “Oh. Uhm. Uhm.” I fiddled with my wedding ring. I didn’t know how to tell her I wasn’t interested. “I’m married,” I blurted out.

  She laughed the kind of laugh I wished I had. It was pure and genuine. “I know. I’m married, too. My husband’s coming up in the next set. Since your friend is gone, I thought maybe you’d like some company. I’m one of the non-transvestites in here tonight, too.”

  “My friend is a non-t,” I said.

  She laughed again. “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  Her laughter was infectious, and I couldn’t help smiling. “She’s recently had a makeover and looks a lot less masculine now.”

  “Well, she fits right in. Are you enjoying yourself? I get the feeling you wish you were somewhere else.”

  “It shows that much, huh? I’m from a small town in Ohio, and I wish I was home with my husband. My friend-” I paused for a moment. Why did I keep calling Addie my friend? She wasn’t really my friend. Was she? But it sort of felt right to call her my friend. “My friend dragged me to Chicago for a couple of days. We were supposed to head home earlier this evening, but she wanted to come here.”

  There was no way I was talking about a murder case with a complete stranger.

  She smiled. Even her smile was one I’d like to have. I guessed her to be younger than me. Maybe in her late twenties.

  “My name’s Daisy,” she said. “Let me get us a couple of drinks.” She flagged down the server at the next table.

  Before I could protest, she was already ordering. “Two black coffees.”

  “Coffee sounds great,” I said. “Thank you. My name’s Jo.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jo. What’s with the glasses?”

  I had completely forgotten I was wearing the stupid glasses without lenses. I snatched them off my face.

  “They were my friend’s idea.” I reached around, pulled the rubber band from my hair, and gave my scalp a quick rub. I never wore my hair back, and my scalp was aching from the tension. “She thought they would be a disguise. The glasses and pulling back my hair.”

  “Why do you need a disguise? No one here knows you, do they?”

  I hesitated for a minute. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.

  “Do you come here often?” I asked.

  “At least once a week. My husband loves crossdressing and performing. I’m happy to support him.”

  “Have you ever met a Pete Sinclair here?”

  “No one uses real names. Everyone has a nickname. My name’s not really Daisy, and if your real name is Jo, then we need to come up with a nickname for you.”

  I only had to think for a second. “My husband calls me Sherlock.”

  She laughed again. “Are you a detective?”

  “I’m a private investigator.”

  “Is that why you’re looking for this Pete guy?”

  “Yes and no. I met him in Hawaii on my honeymoon. I was hoping to see him and talk with him tonight.”

  “It’s getting late. This is the last show, so if you haven’t seen him by now, I doubt you will. I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Before I could respond, she glanced toward the stage and said excitedly, “They’re ready to start.”

  Four men dressed in long white gowns and wearing white gloves had come onto the stage. They wore black wigs and had impeccable makeup. They positioned themselves with the lead singer in front, and the three backup singers behind him. Three of the men were black; one was white. I assumed the white man to be her husband.

  Within seconds, they began belting out Stop in the Name of Love. I knew the song to be a sixties Motown hit. Daisy’s husband seemed to be a tad out of sync with the others, but he was doing a nice job, and I couldn’t help smiling and clapping along to the music with his wife.

  The song was nearly over when I stopped clapping. I leaned over to Daisy and asked above the music, “Which one is your husband?”

  “He’s the lead singer.”

  “Are they a regular group?”

  She nodded her head. “But something must have happened to Bernadette. The guy on the left in the back isn’t with the quartet.”

  I noticed the lead singer looking our way quite often. Now I knew why. The white guy in the back had been singing and smiling in a completely different direction, but I couldn’t see who was the focus of his attention.

  I stood from my chair and walked toward the stage. I followed his gaze and spotted the woman. She was beautiful with long black hair. She was non-t and looked familiar.

  I made my way back to our table just as the song finished.

  “Come backstage with me,” Daisy said. “I’d like you to meet my husband.”

  I was grateful for the invitation. I grabbed my bag and followed her. The four men were standing amidst several people telling them what a good job they had done.

  Daisy gave her husband a kiss and praised him as well. She turned to me and said, “This is my new friend, Sherlock. This is my husband, Stacy, and his backup singers Debbie and Sonja.” I shook each of their hands. Daisy asked, “What happened to Bernadette?”

  “She got sick about two hours ago and had to leave,” her husband replied. “Petula here said she’d fill in.”

  “Hi, Petula,” I said and stuck my hand out for a shake. Pete Sinclair reluctantly grasped my hand. I could only think he was hoping his dress and makeup wouldn’t give him away. When he stuck his hand in mine, I grasped hard and didn’t let go. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You were really good considering you had so little time to practice.”

  He knew his unique voice would give him away, but not responding to me would be rude.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  I relaxed my grip and let go of his hand.

  Daisy turned to me. “We’re all going to Denny’s for a bite to eat. Would you and your friend want to come along?”

  I was so tired, I couldn’t imagine doing anything other than going back to Mabel’s, but this might be my only chance to talk with Pete.

  “I’ll go find her and ask,” I said.
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  The woman Pete had been singing to walked up and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His discomfort was clearly visible.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked with a smile. “You were so great tonight.”

  He didn’t respond. I left the group to find Addie, but the moment I was on the main floor, I pulled my phone from my bag and checked my messages. Glenn had sent several photos of my whiteboard with many of them being close-ups, so I could see details. I flipped through the pictures, hoping to find what I was looking for.

  My suspicion was confirmed when I looked at the newspaper photo of Natalie and her family. The woman with the long dark hair was Natalie’s sister – Naomi Ping.

  I needed time to process this information. What was Natalie’s sister doing here with Pete, and why did it appear they were a couple? Did Pete kill Natalie to be with Naomi? Would Pete and Naomi have hooked up after Natalie’s death? I couldn’t fathom the crudeness of that behavior.

  I raced to the dance floor to find Addie. She wasn’t there. I went back to our table, but it was now occupied by a group of four women. I searched the bar and checked the restrooms. No Addie. I called her phone several times, but my calls went straight to voice mail. I left a couple of messages and waited, but she didn’t call back.

  I made my way out to the bouncer at the door.

  “Do you remember the woman who gave you the hundred dollar bill when a twenty would have been sufficient?”

  He smiled the toothy grin again. He had some really big teeth in there.

  “Yep,” he said. “You know what that circus man always said. There’s a sucker born every minute.”

  “Have you seen her? Did she leave?”

  He pulled an oversized pocket watch out of his back pocket to check the time. “Yep. She left ‘bout an hour ago.”

  “Was she with anyone?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  There was something about the way he said it that made me think he wasn’t telling the truth. I fumbled in my bag and pulled out my only twenty-dollar bill. “Does Mr. Jackson help you remember?”