4 Yip/Tuck (8 page)

THE SUN WAS setting, cueing a colorful end of an even more colorful day. I pointed the Jeep south. We bounced along PCH, back to Laguna, each lost in our own thoughts. The radio played quietly in the background, a female voice reciting the top news. I heard Dr. O’Doggle’s name and quickly turned up the volume.

“The police have confirmed the death of renowned plastic surgeon, Jack O’Doggle of Newport Beach. His death has been officially classified as a homicide. Dr. O’Doggle’s body was found in front of the Bow Wow Boutique in downtown Laguna Beach yesterday morning. The cause of death has not been—”

I turned off the radio. I’d heard enough.

After the latest news bulletin, it struck me that we may have unwittingly helped the killer dispose of incriminating evidence. I felt sick to my stomach. I know, too little too late.

“I really hope there isn’t an eyewitness out there who saw a woman with a hideous blonde afro leave the scene,” I said.

Darby’s breath hitched. “Do you think someone on the doctor’s staff killed him?”

“I don’t know. If someone did see something, Tova’s the only one carrying that ugly wig around town.”

I kept my eyes on the road. Traffic slowed as more cars filled the highway. I switched lanes to pass a black SUV with Montana plates driving well under the speed limit. Visitors. Ugh.

“Should we tell Malone?” Darby asked.

“Tell him what? Tova’s acting like a crazy woman, running around town with a blonde afro wig that shouldn’t ever be worn? Not even for a Halloween slasher movie?”

“That about sums it up. Are you going to call or shall I?” Darby asked.

The light at the Crystal Cove State Park turned red. I stopped the Jeep and contemplated what to do about Tova and her wig.

“It doesn’t prove anything. We have the picture, which was supposedly the whole reason she went there in the first place. She’ll be back. Let’s talk to her then.”

Darby looked at me, her face suddenly sympathetic. “Do you think he was cheating on Tova?”

I shrugged. “Gwen thinks so. She knows more than she’s divulging. If there is another woman, we need to find her. Maybe she’s the one who killed Tova’s cheating boyfriend.”

“We?” Darby squeaked. “I think we need to stay out of it.”

The light turned green. I accelerated, heading for the boutique. My thoughts collided with possibilities. If Jack O’Doggle really was strangled with a dog leash, were any of those women strong enough to kill him? Was he killed in front of Bow Wow or was that a dumping ground? Either way, why in front of my shop? Did it mean anything or was it just coincidence?

Staying out of it. A nice thought.

Execution was a different matter altogether.

TWENTY MINUTES later, we were back at the boutique. The bell jangled our return. Other than Betty bustling around the shop, the place was empty.

“It’s Melinda,” I called out before I flipped the sign to Closed. “How’d it go?”

“Slow. You need to come up with some ideas to drum up business.” She turned to face me. When she saw Darby her eyes lit up. “Hi, there. Change your mind about the nail polish?”

Darby smiled. “Afraid not.”

“Your loss.” Betty shuffled to the counter, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor.

As she got closer, I could see she’d refreshed her lipstick. Only on the lips. Maybe the eyebrow thing was a fluke.

She picked up a yellow notepad. “You had a couple of calls, tootsie. Vera White inquired about the job. I told her you’d filled the position.” She shot me a denture-filled grin. “You should send her an official rejection letter. She seems like the needy type.” She licked her boney finger and flipped the page. “A Detective Malone called. Said he was still waiting for a list of addresses. He’ll be at the station late tonight.”

Darby sent me an uneasy glance. My heart skipped a beat. I’d forgotten about the addresses.

“You didn’t mention where I was, did you?”

Betty shrugged a fragile shoulder; her silk pajamas slid forward, showing off her extra-white skin. “He didn’t ask.”

Darby elbowed me. I knew what she was saying. Close call. We joined Betty behind the counter and shoved our purses on the shelf.

“Did you help that lady get her photo?” Betty asked.

I pulled the frame out of my purse. I looked at it with a critical eye. It didn’t look like it was anything special. Gold, five-by-seven, a burgundy felt backside.

“She left in a rush and forgot to take it with her.” Which meant I’d have an opportunity to talk to Tova again. Boy, did I have a lot of questions.

Betty picked up the frame and smiled. “They look happy. My Tommy gave me a picture frame just like this many years ago. I miss him sometimes.” Her fingers traced the gold beveled edges.

“I’m sorry, Betty. How long ago did he die?” Darby asked softly.

“Ten years ago this Thanksgiving. Died of a heart attack at the family dinner table. Face plant in the mashed potatoes and gravy. Kplat! Never saw it coming.”

“That’s awful.” Tenderhearted Darby patted Betty’s arm.

“Once the family stopped laughing, we realized he was dead. The girls were devastated. We had some good times, me and my Tommy.” She handed the photo back to me.

“You never remarried?” I asked.

“I love an attractive man, but I don’t want to be hitched to another. Unless it’s for lovin’.” She wiggled her faded eyebrows. “Do you know any good men, cookie?”

Darby’s lips pressed together, hiding a smile. I blinked rapidly, working hard to not picture Betty’s definition of lovin’. Too much information.

“I’ll have to think on that,” I said.

“Did you check the secret compartment on the backside?” Betty’s face softened. “My Tommy used to hide notes for me. He was a romantic.”

A secret compartment? I flipped the frame over. A small tab, just big enough to hold between your thumb and index finger, stuck out, begging to be pulled. It wasn’t exactly a hiding place. It was how the back came off to insert the photo. But I could see how someone might hide a note behind it if they were so inclined.

I pulled the tab. A newspaper clipping fluttered to the counter.

“What’d I tell ya, cookie?” she cackled.

I unfolded the paper. It was an advertisement for opening night for an entertainment show. The venue name was missing. I didn’t recognize either of the women in the picture. They weren’t exactly natural beauties with their enormous hair, sequined gowns, and a ton of eye glitter; they posed in a manner that was neither natural nor sexy. The headline read Jackie O and La—a. La—a? I wasn’t even sure how to pronounce her name. I decided to go with “La-ah”.

Could one of them be the “other woman” we had heard about?

“Let me see.” Betty tugged on my sleeve.

I showed it to her and then Darby.

Betty scrunched her lips disgusted. “Blondie needs a new hair stylist. Her hair is awful. It looks like a wig.”

I chuckled. It did look like a wig. Exactly like the wig Tova carried off to God knows where. My pulse quickened. I blinked, making sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.

“That dark-haired one looks familiar. I’ve seen her before.” Betty tapped her nose in concentration.

“I don’t think Tova knows about this,” Darby stated.

“You’re thinking what I am, aren’t you? That’s the wig Tova stole.”

“I remember,” Betty shouted, her petite body vibrating with excitement. “They’re drag queens. I saw their show at the Kitty Kat Club. That blonde, Jackie O, she was bad. No timing, bad makeup. Came out in a pink suit and pillbox hat. Horrible. I got my money back.”

I completely avoided the fact that Betty had been to a drag show. “You’re sure?” The blonde did have a strong jaw line.

“I’m old, but I’m not on my deathbed. You girls need to get out more. Experience life. Those aren’t ugly ladies. They’re definitely drag queens.”

I looked closer at the photo. Something clicked in my brain. “Oh. My. Gosh.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Jackie O is Jack O’Doggle.”

THE KITTY KAT Club had a reputation for over-the-top fun and bawdy humor. I’d Googled the club and found their website in seconds. There was a show tonight at eleven. It had taken some cajoling and begging, but I’d finally talked Darby into going with me. It was decided that I’d pick her up at ten.

Then I called Betty’s daughter, Valerie. After a brief chat, I realized why Betty wanted out of the house. Valerie seemed fixated on her need to be the center of attention rather than her mother’s need to keep active. I hired Betty to work four hours Monday through Friday.

I told her to come back the next day at noon for some official training. That would give me time to run a background check, too. You never know.

After Betty and Darby had gone, I printed out the addresses I’d promised Malone and ran them over to the police station. For once, luck was on my side. Malone was otherwise occupied. I left the report with the clerk and skedaddled before my luck ran out.

I loved adventure and new experiences, but even I felt apprehensive about tonight. On the drive home, I racked my brain for anyone who might have some pointers. Then it came to me. The perfect person was right under my nose.

The minute I opened my front door, Missy greeted me with snorts and kisses. I loved her up and told her I missed her. While I filled her dog bowls with water and kibble, Missy found her leash and dragged it to the kitchen.

“You wanna go for a walk?” I scratched her head with all the adoration I felt for my pooch. “Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my cell and off we went.

While we were on our walk, Darby called to let me know Caro had agreed to a few outdoor shots. I promised to be at Caro’s by nine forty-five the next morning.

Once Missy was finished with her doggie business, inspecting every bush and tree along the route, we returned home.

I pulled my cell from my back pocket and called Kendall Reese, groomer extraordinaire.

“Divine Dog Spa,” a female voice answered.

“Hi. This is Melinda Langston. Is Kendall there?”

“Hold on a minute.” I heard her set the phone down. Dogs barked and howled in the background as I waited.

I dropped to the couch and pulled off my boots. I’d met Kendall a couple of months ago and immediately enjoyed his flamboyant personality. If anyone knew their way around a drag club, he had to be the one.

“Kendall here,” he said with poise and professionalism.

“Hey, it’s Melinda Langston. I have a huge, huge favor to ask.”

“Girlfriend, if this is about Fluffy, forgetaboutit. That doggie doesn’t like me.” His feminine voice, full of Latin attitude, filled my ear.

I was pretty sure there was a hand-wave and snap that I couldn’t see at the end of that sentence.

“Snob Dog doesn’t like anyone. Don’t take it personally. I called because my friend and I were hoping you’d come with us to the Kitty Kat Club tonight? You know, show us the ropes.”

“Ooooh. Are you gettin’ your inner diva on?” he asked excitedly.

I smiled. “Something like that. What do you say? Are you in?”

“Sounds fab-u-lous.”

I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. “One last question. What do we wear?”

KENDALL HAD TWO syllables of advice. “Spar-kle.” Snap.

I decided on my black Rachel Zoe sequined shift dress and t-strap gold pumps. I pinned my hair into an intricate updo with sideswept bangs. A little something I’d learned during my pageant days. Darby kept her hair down and wore a more understated navy Michael Kors number and nude platform shoes.

“Yoo-hoo, Melinda. Over here,” a sing-song voice clamored above the music.

For a second I thought I was trapped in a bad music video. A tall, wiry man Soul Trained across the crowded floor in tight, black tuxedo trousers and a red lame’ shirt unbuttoned to his wide waistband. Kendall had his own style, but tonight he’d outdone even himself.

A handful of gold chains slapped his hairless chest as he boogied closer. The second I was within reach, he grabbed my hand and twirled me in front of him.

“Oooh, Mama, you look hot, hot, hot.”

He swiveled toward Darby and tsked dramatically. “Girlfriend, where’s your spar-kle?”

She held up her gold sequined clutch, apparently afraid to speak. I was under the same spell.

“My sad little doggie has more sparkle than you,” he said with a head bob. “You need to loosen up with some alcohol. Follow me ladies.” And off he danced.

The club was huge. To the left, a separate dance room, packed from mirrored-wall to mirrored-wall with gyrating bodies and throbbing bass.

To the right, the bar. It had to be the largest bar I’d seen since college, stretching the full length of the wall. It was crammed with a handful of men and tons of women. All dressed to kill, willing to battle it out for a beer or martini.

I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed. The Kitty Kat looked like every other club. Low lights, blaring music meant to prevent meaningful conversation, and a miniscule sitting area. Oh, and plenty of drunks.

Kendall chatted up our fellow partiers, inching us closer to the front of the line. Finally, we ordered our drinks and were ready for the show.

“Where’s the best place to sit?” I shouted at Kendall.

“Right up front, honey.” He pointed toward the stage straight ahead.

I’d totally missed it. In my mind, the stage should be larger. In reality, it was barely six feet wide, framed by blue velvet curtains. I tipped the bartender a few bucks, then we made our way toward the stage.

Once again, we followed Kendall. There were a handful of empty tables left. We claimed the closest to the stage.

“It doesn’t look any different than the bars in Nebraska.” Darby’s blonde curls bobbed as she looked around. “It’s really loud,” she shouted. Darby hadn’t drank an ounce of her rum and Diet Coke.

“Did you bring your dollars?” Kendall sipped delicately on his champagne cocktail.

“Sure did. Why do we need them?” I asked.

“You’ll see.” Kendall’s lip-glossed smile spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

I drank my dirty martini as I watched a boisterous bachelorette party crank up the fun with Jell-O shots.

At exactly eleven o’clock, the lights dimmed and the music climaxed. Spotlights flashed the audience. Black spots danced before my eyes.

A faceless voice boomed from the speakers. “Are you ready to be swept away by the queens of the night?”

The mob roared in response. If I looked half as terrified as Darby, we were in some serious trouble.

“Give it up for . . . Miss . . . Bea . . . Haven.”

The screaming crowd rushed the stage like a Longhorn steer stampede. Was there a fire? My heart pounded in time to the music.

The curtains parted, and Jennifer Hudson’s doppelganger appeared. I swear on my family’s good name she looked right at me and smiled. Jennifer glided from one end of the stage to the other, lip-syncing perfectly to “Love You I Do,” from the movie
Dreamgirls
.

Her silver and black beaded gown shimmered in the light, casting a spell on the audience. She stretched her arms toward the crowd, accepting (or encouraging, depending on your point of view) countless dollar bills thrust in her direction.

“I thought these were men?” Darby looked confused.

“They are,” Kendall patted her arm. He whipped out a five from his wallet, answering the siren call. “Isn’t she delicious?” He waved his money in the air as he shimmed toward the edge of stage.

Each time Jennifer accepted money, she air-kissed her admirer’s face. The crowd ate it up, begging for more.

“That is not a man,” Darby argued. She removed the straw from her glass and gulped her cocktail. Her eyes watered. “Mel, those are real breasts.”

I shook my head. I’d seen enough chicken cutlets in my day to know even the best breast can be faked. “I don’t think so. His . . . ah . . . her makeup is perfect, though. If he didn’t have an Adam’s apple, I would have never known he isn’t a woman.”

This was Dr. O’Doggle’s secret life?

Maybe Tova had a motive to kill her boyfriend after all. She didn’t strike me as a woman willing to share the spotlight with a female impersonator. I doubted she could handle the competition. After all, he was cheating on Tova.

With himself.

THE SHOW LASTED little more than an hour. The highlight was when Cher emerged from behind the curtain in her iconic black feather headdress and slayed the crowd with her rendition of If I Could Turn Back Time. Buzzed, Darby had yanked a dollar from her wallet and shoved her way to the stage. She’d even managed to evade the required butt slap from the drunk dude up front. Sometime after Cher’s air kiss, Darby switched to water. Probably a good idea.

The lights were back to I-think-you’re-sexy-but-I-can’t-see-you- clearly-to-know-for-sure, and the music had been toned down to a decibel where conversation was somewhat possible. Needless to say, I had a bucket full of questions, including a few about Dr. O’Doggle.

“Do you know how much skill it takes to look that good?” I asked Darby and Kendall. “We all know some women who could take a lesson from these guys.”

“No, no, no. When they are in drag, they are ladies,” Kendall explained.

Darby clutched a half-full bottle of water. “I still can’t believe they were all men. Are you certain?”

Kendall smiled, pleased with our reaction to the show. “Positive.”

“Even the one wearing the electric blue cat suit?” she asked.

He nodded. “All of them.” Kendall explained the proper way to “tuck.”

Darby shook her head. “Amazing.”

“They’ll come and mingle with us in a few minutes.” His Latin accent thickened the more he drank. “Do you want to meet a special one?” he asked Darby. “Cher, maybe?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is La-ah here?” I asked, finally remembering the reason we were there in the first place.

Kendall shot me a funny look, but before he could answer, the drag queens started to appear. Each one had changed into new costumes. I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen so much spandex and glitter, evening gowns, boas, and elbow-length gloves. Cat suits and go-go boots floated throughout the room. Each queen wore glitter on her face. Eyelids, lips, cheeks. It felt like a pixie dust party.

The High Priestess of drag queens paraded toward our table in her black spandex cat suit and cape. Her body was amazing. Her fiery red wig was striking. The closer she drifted to our table, I could see her mocha skin glistening with perspiration.

I was fascinated with her makeup. Singular swipes of dark blush emphasized high cheekbones. Dramatic blue-green eye shadow enhanced her black eyes. The exaggerated strokes took a trained, steady hand. She was good. And judging by the predatory look on her face, she knew it.

“Kendall,” she cooed in a surprisingly feminine voice. Dark lip liner drew attention to her full lips, to which she’d applied glitter gloss.

Could she be the owner of the mysterious lip gloss Gwen had found?

“Introduce me to your friends.” She batted caterpillar lashes as she dragged her fingers through his hair.

He swatted her hand away good-naturedly. “Don’t be naughty. Melinda, Darby, this is Goldie Fawn. Goldie brings her Chihuahua, Miss Kitty, to Divine Spa.”

“The show was very entertaining,” Darby said.

“Thank you, dah-ling. I’m thrilled you enjoyed yourself.” She pointed a deadly gold fingernail in my direction. “You look very familiar. Where do I know you from?”

Since he—she—had a dog, I went with the obvious. “I own Bow Wow Boutique.”

Her plump smile faltered. “That’s right. I bought Miss Kitty’s new green lead from you.”

Darby’s head whipped in my direction faster than the Linda Blair scene in The Exorcist. I kicked her under the table.

“You must have paid cash. I’m sure I would have remembered you,” I said with a smile.

Her laugh was definitely male. “I don’t wear drag in the daytime. It’s a little scary, even for me. Ladies, it was decent meeting you.”

Decent? Did she just insult us?

Kendall grabbed a handful of her cape. “Where’s Ladasha? Melinda wanted to meet her.”

I’d been pronouncing the name wrong. La—ah was Ladasaha.

Goldie pinned me with her peacock eyes. “Why?”

It would take more than a good smoky eye to intimidate me. “I heard she performed with Jackie O.”

“You know Jackie? Are you a friend?” All pretenses of femininity evaporated.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“I don’t like that bitch. She thought she was better than us. So, yes, it would.”

Kendall stood. “I’m sure Melinda didn’t mean to upset you.”

There were times the direct approach was best. This was one of those times. “Jackie O was murdered. Darby and I found her in front of my boutique. We just wanted to ask Ladasha some questions.”

“Move over.” Goldie shoved Kendall aside and stole his seat. “What are you talking about?”