Thursday Club Mysteries: All 7 stories

by Sheila Hudson

  Hattie aimed her scooter at the crowd forcing them to move. We followed behind as she ran interference like football players guarding their star quarterback. Neal looked up from his notetaking and ran to stop her.

  “Aunt Hattie, this way,” he motioned.

  She obeyed and Neal escorted us into a nearby boutique.

  “This looks serious ladies. The diver is dead from a shark attack and we have no details yet. I need to stay here and forward information to the FBI. They may need me to gather information, notify the family, and restore some kind of order. I think it would be best to go to your suite for now. I can arrange for Dom to stay with you if you like.”

  Hattie rolled her eyes. She scanned the group and came back to meet Neal.

  “It’s murder isn’t it?”

  “Too soon to tell. We have to somehow isolate this portion of the reef to see why the shark attacked and if there are witnesses and on and on. It will be a while before a conclusion like that is reached. The shark that attacked the diver was a seven-foot long bull shark. The diver is Franco Adams who has worked in the shark reef exhibit for years and knew all of them. He even named some of them. Bull sharks aren’t particularly loveable but they don’t ordinarily attack without provocation. So what or who provoked it?”

  “I need to go and lie down,” Clara said. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of this. It’s not every day that you witness a shark attack.”

  We agreed and headed for the elevator. I was glad I had charged my trusty laptop. It seemed that homework about sharks, particularly bull sharks, was in order.

  While the others recovered from the shock of seeing the dead diver, I took the opportunity to do a little research. Not having any background on sea life, I found sharks to be a fascinating subject. From website to website, these creatures are amazing. No wonder the shark reef exhibit was so popular. Underneath those dead looking eyes lived a highly intelligent, intuitive, and highly adaptive animal. No wonder they’ve been able to survive the human intrusion into their habitat.

  8

  Thank God for Wikipedia. I found this info about bull sharks fascinating.

  Since bull sharks often dwell in very shallow waters, are found in many types of habitats, and have virtually no tolerance for provocation, they may be more dangerous to humans than any other species of sharks. and along with the tiger shark and great white shark, are among the three shark species most likely to bite humans.

  One or several bull sharks may have been responsible for the Jersey Shore shark attacks of 1916, which were the inspiration for Peter Benchley's novel Jaws. The speculation of bull sharks possibly being responsible is based on two fatal bites occurring in brackish and freshwater.

  The article further stated that bull sharks are attracted by shiny objects like jewelry, splashing, and certain colors like yellow. They often bump then bite their victims. Their sense of smell is incredible and use that plus their sensitivity to electrical impulses to determine their direction.

  An example was of a female diver who was having her menstrual cycle. The bull shark could smell the blood from more than 2.5 mile away.

  Great day! With that kind of nose he could find prey almost anywhere. But if the divers went into these acrylic tanks regularly to feed the sharks and deal with the other sea life, why on this particular day did this shark see fit to attack the diver?

  I was just about to research this electrical impulses thing when Nelle and Neal rejoined us.

  “Where is everybody?” Neal looked at me so I suppose I should be the one to answer.

  “Clara took a nerve pill and went to her room to lie down. Amy and Suzy are watching television in the back bedroom. And of course, we are here.”

  I waved my hand in Hattie’s direction. She had removed her bonnet of choice and had repositioned herself from the scooter to the chaise lounge.

  “We are truly sorry about today. That was a very unfortunate accident,” Nelle said.

  “Yes it was,” Hattie agreed, “Especially for the diver. Who is or rather was he?”

  “We are putting all of that together now, dear,” Neal responded. “But I have just the ticket to get your minds off of the horror of that scene. Zumanity at the New York New York Casino. Second row tickets so as now to get splashed when they do the beer table dance. How does that sound?”

  “Naughty,” Suzy said as she and her sister entered the room.

  “What sounds naughty?” Amy asked.

  “Never mind dear,” Suzy answered.

  “Here’s some leaflets on the show. It’s got everything you need for a successful bridal shower celebration. Men in thongs, topless women, nudity in all forms, and seduction around every corner,” Neal grinned as he recited from the pamphlet.

  “So how many times have you been, you sly old dog?” Hattie asked Neal.

  “A few. Show times are 8:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.”

  “8:00 p.m. show will be fine,” I answered. “We have to get our beauty rest. There’s so much to do – the Bellagio Conservatory and Singing Waters, Caesar’s Palace, and the famous Strip. We have to walk the strip.”

  Hattie waved her hand to me. “Calm down dear. We’ll do it all. I promise. I wonder if Clara has any more of those nerve pills.”

  “For you?” I asked.

  “No dear. For you,” Hattie said as she tenderly patted my hand.

  9

  We were excited as the crowd grew for the Zumanity show. It was mostly middle-aged and older, but of course this was the earlier show not that it was family fare.

  Our seats were 2nd row center and when the lights dimmed we could feel the electricity in the air. The red velvet curtains parted and a perfectly muscled man wearing a thong and red stilettos greeted us with a dance that would make you slap your grandpa down.

  I was glad the room was dark so no one could see my red face. I could feel the heat and it wasn’t the room temperature. Behind him were topless dancers in less than nothing as mom would say. There were girls with girls, girls with boys, boys with boys and everything in between. The sex act per se wasn’t done but everything the imagination ruled.

  Amy and Suzy were fanning, so I knew they felt the heat too. When the table dancing began. Women pulled bills out of their purses and stuffed them under the thong and they weren’t too careful about where.

  I prayed that Jesus didn’t return while we were in there. I’d be too embarrassed to look him in the face. OMG What had we gotten ourselves into?

  Just when I thought it might be safe to peek between my fingers, bird cages came down from the ceiling with more dancers in masochistic outfits. Others joined them with whips and chains. The coup de gras was the martini ballet with guys in gigantic glasses filled with liquid doing God knows what all over each other.

  Finally the lights came up and we were all of one accord to high tail it out of there as quickly as possible and to pray that no one saw us. It was Las Vegas after all. Who in the world would be there that we knew? And if someone did happen to be there, would they be as anxious to be anonymous as we were?

  Back in our suite, I bathed my face in cold water, put my feet up, and pour a glass of bubbly. Neal had it on ice ready for our return.

  Hattie was the first to speak.

  “I don’t know about you girls, but I was praying that I wouldn’t have a heart attack and the paramedics would have to come into that show and retrieve my body. What would my friends at Golden Palms say? Or our friends back home?”

  “They’d probably say ‘go for it old girl.’” Suzy remarked. “I knew it would be erotic and maybe raunchy. The pamphlet compared it to acrobatic Kama Sutra.”

  “What is that?” Amy said.

  “I’ll explain later,” Suzy said.

  “I was mortified,” Amy said. “But you have to admit they were in great shape. I saw muscles twitch that I didn’t know existed. They were so oiled and tan that they looked like statuettes.”

  Clara fanned herself rapidly. “I just hope they don’t
all die of skin cancer from the tanning beds. And I thought what I read about Chippendales was seductive.”

  “Chalk another adventure up to the Thursday Club. This goes right to the top of the list next to the Korean Spa,” I said with a laugh. “And not a word to my husband, please.”

  The group broke out in hilarious laughter. We toasted the evening with more champagne. Clara brought out her Reese’s stash from home and we celebrated in style.

  While flipping through the television channels, Amy wistfully said, “I wonder if the performers are allowed to date tourists.”

  With that Hattie began to choke on her chocolate. By the time she stopped sputtering we were all in tears from laughter.

  10

  The next morning it was all we could do to drink our morning coffee without spewing it. Just as we would get serious, someone would vamp down the hallway or teeter on their toes mimicking the guy in red stilettos.

  “Okay what’s next on the agenda? Criss Angel at the Luxor? I’ll bet Nelle could get us primo seats,” I asked.

  “Nope I’ll pass,” Amy said. “Suzy’s the bride-to-be she can decide the next disaster.”

  “Not before hair and makeup and brunch,” Suzy shot back at her sister.

  “We should send Tony and Tom here for lessons on how to wiggle their family jewels. What do you say girls?” Clara chimed in. And all this time we thought she was reading the newspaper.

  We entertained a few other jokes and innuendos about abs, buns, and cheeks. We must have been louder than we realized because Hattie rolled into the room looking more than a little disheveled.

  “Coffee. Pronto!” she barked.

  Amy thrust a mug of steaming java into her hand. We waited hardly breathing while she took a few gulps. Finally she sputtered out what was troubling her.

  “Neal says that the FBI thinks the diver was murdered. Murdered by shark bite. Can you imagine?”

  We joined her in shock. Hattie drank the rest of her coffee without stopping and held out her mug for a refill. We all sat stone still and absorbed what she just said.

  “So many hows, whys, whos, and what fors? Neal can’t tell us much because now instead of an accident the case has been upgraded to murder. Just what we were missing—naughty nightlife, bridal shower, and murder,” Hattie mused.

  We drank our coffee in silence and waited for this last bit of news to sink in. Hattie retreated to her room to dress and the rest of us followed suit. Nelle appeared just before noon to take us for brunch. She offered tickets to the Eiffel Tower tour at the Paris casino. Neal had sworn her to silence about any details of the shark tank attack, so we were left to small talk.

  Hattie begged off after lunch saying she’d like me to accompany her back to the suite. Hattie fanned herself and said she needed to rest. We waited for Nelle and the others to board the van headed for Paris and the Eiffel Tower tour.

  “That should keep them busy for a while,” Hattie chuckled.

  “Hattie, I thought you weren’t feeling well,” I said. I’m sure I had a surprised look on my face, which disappeared when she gave me that familiar grin.

  “I’m off to UNLV. I’m sure they have some info on divers, sharks, and the like. An UBER is on its way completely equipped to handle my scooter. Are you in?”

  11

  We were greeted at the door by a scholarly, bespectacled gentleman sporting a gorgeous head of silver hair. He looked the part of professor and department head which, of course, he was. He greeted Hattie with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. One of her former boyfriends? Maybe. Was there anyone this woman didn’t know?

  “Hattie my darling. It’s been too long,” the gentleman said and turned to me.

  “And who is your lovely companion?”

  “Loren, I’d like you to meet Roxy Thibideaux. Roxy, this is a dear friend from college days, Dr. Loren Wentworth, Department Head of Marine Life at this illustrious house of learning,” Hattie said with a tip of her bowler.

  Loren kissed my hand and turned to Hattie with a mischievous grin.

  “Is that the chapeau you were wearing when we met?” he asked.

  “One and the same.”

  Did Hattie blush? Or was that my imagination?

  “Now Loren, down to business. We need all the help you can muster on shark sensitivity to electricity along with any experiments done with electrical impulses. Can you point Roxy to the correct section of the library and get her started?”

  “My lady’s wish is my command. And when she’s settled, I’d like you to come back to my carrel and we can catch up on what’s been happening in your life. I even had my intern, Kitty Montenegro, place a carafe of Earl Grey in my cubby. There are advantages of being department head and candidate for dean,” Loren said with a flourish on the last word.

  “Congrats,” we said in unison.

  Kitty appeared as though on cue and escorted Hattie to the rendezvous point. While Loren aka Dr. Wentworth took my arm and we headed to the northwest corner of the second floor.

  Already laid out were the essentials for note taking, a list of books and where to find them, a laptop charged and ready. Kitty was also at my disposal. After introductions and a short description of the library layout, Loren was off to join Hattie while I set to work.

  Kitty quickly understood what I was after and why. We found several items of interest concerning shark research. While marine life research was more prevalent in coastal area universities, we discovered that good old UNLV had carried on some research in this desert oasis.

  When we compared notes from the Shark Reef pamphlet and the research report, several names popped. The dead diver was one of them. Franco Adams had been a research associate before he was hired away by Mandelay Cape Corp. So he was part of the team researching sharks and their sensitivity to electrons, heat, light, noise, and smell.

  The other names revealed an Annaliese Sewell and a Reece Morgan. Pictures in dive suits showed that these last two were indeed female divers, but no further information if they were still at UNLV or had moved on like their team member.

  Kitty pulled up information on the laptop that read:

  “sharks’ frontal lobes are a natural electromagnetic field reception detecting motion as well as sound. Sharks use this to navigate muddy water, communicate, find food, and discover prey. They determine direction of a given scent by the timing of detection in each nostril. Other fish have some of these abilities to a degree but none are more sensitive than the shark. Add that to the aggressive nature of the bull shark and we have a killer.”

  “Wow. Can we print this? I want to show it to my nephew, Neal,” I asked Kitty.

  “Sure. But there’s more,” she said and continued to click the keys.

  The chief leader on the experiment was Dr. Wentworth himself when he was still only a lowly assistant professor. I’ll bet he’s forgotten about it because it was so long ago. He was chosen to head up the team because of his “unique career combination of marine life experience and academia” according to a newspaper article.

  Kitty gathered the print outs, the books I’d ask for, and the laptop. We went to Dr. Wentworth’s carrel where I could hear Hattie having the time of her life. To hear her laugh warmed my heart. Hattie’s life had not been as easy as she led us to believe. Ever since she confided in her lost love, I’ve had an even softer spot for this lady with the heart of platinum.

  On our way out, Hattie and Dr. Wentworth embraced. He saw us safely to our Uber. There was obviously something between them.

  On the ride back I could contain my curiosity no longer.

  “Ex-boyfriend?”

  “What not at all. Dr. Wentworth, that is Loren, and I go way back. He and my ex were roommates. Loren married my best friend, Beth. We had some good times before Beth got sick. It was a long illness. It was good to just reminisce about those we loved and lost.”

  “So Beth is . . . dead?”

  “Yes, cancer a few years back,” Hattie said as she dabbed at her eyes. “Los
ing her took a great toll on both of us, but we chat on Face Book and Face Time. Loren has a great deal of expertise in marine life and anything to do with the ocean. Before he came here to the desert, he was a diver himself. He and Beth even lived on an island for a while, but that was many years ago.

  When Loren visited Athena, years before you came, he asked me to marry him. Pshaw, that was just loneliness talking.”

  Suddenly Hattie turned to me and changed the subject.

  “And since we’re alone. How are you doing? Are you getting regular checkups, mammograms, and such?”

  “Yes ma’am. I’m doing it all and I am A-OK,” I smiled at Hattie. She was so much like a mother to us all.

  “Well. Here I am talking the ears off a Billy goat, while we should be taking in the sights. Look the waters are dancing. We’ve got to get a picture of that for Blanche she’ll never believe it. And I promised Elvira something with Vegas on it. Come on let’s get some shopping done. Driver, take us to Caesars’ Palace. Pronto.”

  12

  The Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace were anchored by high end stores I’d only read about. None of them were within my price range. While Hattie tooled around in Versace, Cartier, and Burberry, I sat in Starbucks and gazed in wonder at how anyone could afford such luxury. But then I was there, wasn’t I?

  We picked up a few items at the logo store for the girls at Golden Palms. I bought a golf shirt for Tom. Maybe one day he’d get to play eighteen holes instead of nine or less. We visited Balenciaga and Boss for a brief time. Just as I entered Brighton, Clara texted me that they were back at the condo and waiting on us for supper.

  “Oh I just remembered. Loren made reservations at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant. He thought we would love the view. It’s at 8:00 p.m. and he will send a car. I am so forgetful. We’d better get back so we can change I hear it’s pretty snazzy.”

  On the way back to the condo I made Hattie give up the details behind her mysterious friend.