4 Yip/Tuck (9 page)

I opened my clutch and pulled out the clipping we’d found. “This is her, right?”

She neither denied nor confirmed. Instead, she scorched me with her stare. “I haven’t heard anything about a dead drag queen.”

“When we found her, she was a he. Dr. Jack O’Doggle, the plastic surgeon. Do you know of anyone who wanted to hurt him? Her?” Now I was confused.

Kendall on the other hand was about to have a meltdown. “I did not know. I promise.” Sweat seeped through his shirt.

Goldie stood. “Don’t move.” She sashayed away.

“You tricked me. Why would you do that?” Kendall wailed.

Good grief, he was an emotional mess. “We didn’t trick you. We didn’t know about Dr. O’Doggle’s other persona until six hours ago. I wasn’t even sure I believed it completely. Until now.”

Kendall rubbed his face. “What have you done?”

Within minutes, Goldie Fawn came back flanked by Jennifer Hudson and Cher. A drag queen gang? “Come with us,” Goldie ordered.

Darby said quickly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her blue eyes were huge.

“Neither do I.” Damn. I was wearing four-inch heels, hardly the right shoes for fighting or running. “I didn’t come here to cause problems.”

Goldie pointed at Jennifer. “This is Jackie O’s drag mama. And she”—Goldie pointed at Cher—“is Ladasha.”

I’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Drag mama? “O-kay. We can’t talk out here?” Where there are a hundred witnesses? I didn’t care if I had to strain to hear. We were safe in the open.

Jennifer said grimly, “We could whoop your skinny ass here and no one would stop us. In fact, most of these people would help. We”—she swept the room with an arm—“are a family. If you want answers, you’ll come with us.” Jennifer’s soft voice brooked no argument. It was her way or not at all.

Okay then. Guess I was about to be educated.

KENDALL BAILED. Something about not leaving his Pomeranian, Guido, an orphan. The bartender called him a cab, and off he went. Honestly, I was relieved. I couldn’t concentrate during his hysterics.

We didn’t go far. Down the hall, to the right, and into a private room. The air was stale and smelled like day-old beer. The only place to sit was a loveseat that should’ve been tossed to the curb three decades ago.

Darby and I sat side-by-side. No sense in dragging it out. Pun intended.

“Did Jackie ever explain why she decided to become a drag queen?” I asked as delicately as possible. I tried to show respect for a community I didn’t understand.

Bea Haven hovered over us. The feathers from her boa tickled my nose. “Normally, I have a drink in my hand before an interrogation.”

“Normally, I’m threatened with jail,” I muttered. Darby elbowed me. “What? It’s true.”

“No. Jackie never opened up about why. Being a drag queen is a visual art. We’re entertainers,” Bea said.

“Is that why you do it?”

“My reasons are my own. I don’t get personal until at least the second drink. Look. We all have our motivations. Some want fame. Others want to look on the outside the way they feel on the inside. You have to be tough to stay in this business for any length of time. The competition is fierce.”

I could relate. Beauty queens were equally conniving but not as open about their intentions to take down whomever they perceived as competition. At least drag queens were upfront.

Bea turned to Goldie. “Why did you bring us back here? There’s nowhere to sit. I’m tired, and my hand is still empty.”

“We needed privacy, and this was it. Stop complaining, you old bag. You’ve been drinking like a fish all night. The other room is occupied.”

I shuddered. I didn’t want to know what the other room had that this one didn’t. “We’re happy to let you sit down.”

Darby nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then get your skinny asses off that couch.”

She didn’t have to order us twice. We scrambled off the loveseat, making room for the others.

Bea and Goldie sat. Ladasha watched all of us silently as she rolled down her black gloves, revealing hairless arms, then pulled off the gloves one finger at a time. She was still performing.

Bea kicked off her size-twelve platform heels and rubbed her feet. “Man, that feels good. I hate these shoes, but they’re just so damn sexy.”

“What’s a drag mama?” I asked.

“An experienced drag queen who takes a newbie under her wing and shows them the ropes. Gives them pointers. Helps them with their makeup,” Bea explained.

Recalling the photo of Jack, he needed a mama. His makeup was atrocious. He did not understand the concept of blending.

“And you were Jackie O’s drag mama?”

“I’ve been in this business twenty years. I am the only drag mama these ladies have ever known.”

“Was he any good?” Darby asked.

Goldie laughed cruelly. “He was awful.”

“I thought you’d made nice with Jackie?” Ladasha finally spoke.

Goldie flashed her pearly whites. “I was faking it.”

I turned to Ladasha. “Did you know him well?”

Of all the queens, she seemed to take Jack’s death the hardest. And by that, I mean she was the only one not talking smack. She shrugged. “We performed together for a few months.”

“Did he have any enemies?

“Come out with it, girl. What you’re really asking is did any of us kill him.” Goldie said.

I raised my eyebrow daring her to answer.

“We may throw shade at each other—”

“Pardon?” Darby finally found her voice.

“Shade. Trash talk. It’s an art form, and not all drags are good at it. But for those of us who are, that doesn’t mean we’d kill each other,” Bea explained.

“Jackie rested on pretty. You can’t just be beautiful. You have to have talent.” Goldie flipped her hair. Obviously, she was talking about her amazing talent.

“Somebody thought she had talent,” Ladasha said.

Goldie jumped up. “Shut up. Ain’t nobody asking you to talk about that.”

“I am,” I said. “What do you mean?”

Ladasha narrow fingers shook. “Jackie deserted us to sign up for a reality show about a group of new drag queens coming up through the clubs. If you want to know what happened to her, you need to talk to the producer, Danny Stone.”

“Great. Where do I find him?”

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Girlfriend, you’re dumber than a beauty queen. L.A., of course.”

I SLEPT IN. I don’t normally sleep past eight, but I was so exhausted after all of last night’s excitement, I must have needed the rest.

I took a quick shower then walked Missy around the block a couple of times before putting on my breaking-and-entering clothes. Black jeans, T-shirt, and hoodie. It was cooler than normal this morning, and like every winter day, the fog blanketed our oceanside town. I slipped on my leather jacket for extra warmth. After pulling on my boots, I headed out the door. My heart raced in anticipation as I mentally walked through the plan to retrieve my pin.

I parked a block down the street from Caro’s place. My fingers patted my pocket, double-checking I had my copy of her house key. I was thinking about where I’d look first when my cell rang. It was Darby.

“Caro’s wearing the brooch.” She sounded panicked.

“Where are you?” My stomach twisted at the unexpected complication. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It’s exactly what I would have done. Dang, Caro!

“Heisler Park.”

“Make her take it off,” I demanded.

“How?”

“I don’t know. You’re the photographer. Make her take it off and put it in her car.”

She fumbled with the phone. “Here she comes. I gotta go.”

I started the Jeep. Dang, dang, dang. I hit the gas. My tires squealed around the corner. I had to come up with a plan, fast. I drove to the shop. It was only a few blocks to the park. I’d walk. I didn’t want to spook Caro if she accidentally saw the Jeep.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail and yanked the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as I scanned PCH for Caro’s vintage silver Mercedes. I spotted it next to a black Caddy Escalade and a Prius. I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

There was no sign of Darby or Caro. I jogged to Caro’s car. Locked. I lay on the ground and looked under her car for a spare key. I felt behind the tire well. Sure enough, I found a small metal box. I pried it from its hiding place.

I stood, brushed off my jeans, and tried to act nonchalant, in case anyone was watching. My heart beat in my chest so hard I thought I’d have a heart attack. I unlocked the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel. The interior was perfectly clean. No fast food wrappers, water bottles, or to-go coffee cups. It even smelled clean. Gawd, she was such a neat freak.

I checked the glove box first. Owner’s manual, tire gauge, and a pen. Next I looked in the door-side pockets. Empty. I felt under the driver’s seat. Nothing. Under the mats, between the seats, and in Dogbert’s carrier in the backseat. Disappointment threatened to overtake my excitement.

I was about to give up when I accidentally slid the seat back a few inches. I felt around. Nothing. I shifted to the passenger side and repeated the search. Bingo. As soon as my fingers touched a handkerchief, I knew I’d scored. That’s when my cell phone rang. Crapola.

I yanked it from my pocket. Mama. Lordy, she had the worst timing.

“Hey, Mama. This isn’t a good time.” I returned the seats to the original positions.

“It’s never a good time for me to call you, Melinda Sue. I’m calling about Christmas. It’s three weeks away. Are you coming like you promised your brother, or are you breaking your daddy’s heart this year too?”

“Mama, please don’t guilt me.” I quickly scanned my surroundings for unwanted company. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you later. Give Daddy my love.”

I ended the call and scrambled out of the car. Once it was locked up as tightly as I’d found it, I returned the key to its hiding place.

The second Caro knew I had the brooch, she’d be more dangerous than a rabid dog. I ran like hell back to the boutique, pumping my fist in the air like Rocky, before she could catch me.

I’d won.

SATURDAY MORNING flew by. So did Caro’s Mercedes. She was a professional and had finished the photo shoot with Darby quickly, but I’m sure the pictures were going to show her steely side. Darby was suffering from duplicity remorse. She was just too softhearted for her own good. I hoped she never changed.

There’d been a steady flow of customers for the first couple of hours. Some of them even made a few purchases. Mostly, there was a lot of small talk about who could have killed Dr. O’Doggle and if I really thought Tova was involved. You know, it’s hard to stay out of Malone’s business when everyone else keeps bringing it to my doorstep.

It was twelve-fifteen. Betty was late for our special training. I’d just picked up the phone when I heard the front door opened. I set it back on its charging station.

“There you are. I was getting worried.” I turned around to find myself staring at the shortest female version of a drag queen this side of Arizona.

“What do you think?” Betty struck an awkward pose. Wrapped in a royal purple evening gown, boa, and elbow length gloves, you knew she’d channeled her inner diva for inspiration. A handful of feathers fluttered to the floor. Good news. The only lipstick on her face was in the right place. “Your sneakers gave you away. I think you have too much time on your hands. Why in the world are you dressed like that?”

“I planned on surprising you and Darby last night, but I fell asleep in my chair before the ten o’clock news. You girls wore me out. I need to make sure I take my vitamins.” She stroked a blonde wig that had to be from the Reagan administration.

I thought about all the drama. Thank goodness Betty hadn’t been with us. Who knows how that would have played out.

“If you’re still playing detective, I can go undercover. Those dames got nothing on me.”

Riiight. Other than a couple feet and triple-D cutlets. “I think we’re good. Are you wearing that getup all day?” If she didn’t stop the hip action, she’d end up in the ER.

“Nah. I got a change of clothes in my handbag. I’ll be right back.”

Betty scampered toward the bathroom. I shook my head. I could only hope I had that much energy at her age.

The door opened and in walked Tova and Stacie. Believe it or not, I did a double take. Tova looked awful. Unbrushed hair, dark circles under her eyes. Her stonewashed jeans and shirt hung on her. She looked like the before photo for an anti-aging serum.

“Hi, Mel.” Tova said softly. “I forgot to grab the photo from Jack’s office. Do you have it?”

I pulled it out from under the counter. “Gwen made sure I took it with me.”

She made a face. “I told you she hated me.”

“Did they tell you anything about the new doctor? Was he stealing Jack’s patients?” Tova’s assistant asked.

Stacie seemed to be thriving under the stress. She looked refreshed and in charge. She drifted around the store as if looking for something. Interesting.

I noticed her hands were still red. “You need to have that rash looked at.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’ll go away in a couple of days. Well, did you ask?”

“It didn’t come up. Tova, how well did you really know Jack?”

Color tinged her pale face. “We didn’t keep secrets. He was not cheating on me.”

“I agree. With the cheating part. But he was keeping a secret.” I handed her the clipping. “We found this in the back of the frame.”

“You were snooping in my personal belongings?” she screeched.

Betty meandered toward the front of the store. “Oh, it’s you. I thought someone stepped on a cat.”

I choked back my laughter. “I wasn’t snooping,” I lied to Tova. “It fell out when I pulled the tab. What are you going to do, sue me?”

Tova froze. “No,” she said in small and very unnatural voice.

Stacie began looking under display stands and along the wall. “Tova’s been under a lot of stress. I would think you, of all people, would understand that.”

“I would also think she would have learned to not attack those who were helping her. What are you looking for?”

“I thought I dropped an earring just now.”

She was lying. I could see both earrings plain as day.

Tova stared at the clipping. “I don’t understand. This was in the frame?”

I nodded.

Her hands trembled. “Why? Who are these people?”

Unease washed over me as I was about to destroy her perfect boyfriend world. “Jack and another man.”

Both Stacie and Tova blanched.

Tova stepped back like a weaving drunk. “What are you saying, Melinda Langston?”

“Your boyfriend was a drag queen. He’s ‘Jackie O.’”

“You’re lying.” She wadded up the clipping and threw it at me.

I picked up the small paper ball. “Why in the world would I make up something like that?”

Stacie looked like she was ready to lunge across the counter and pull my hair out. “Because you’re mean.”

I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes. Were we suddenly back in high school, and I was the mean girl? “That’s it? Because I’m mean?”

Betty pooh-poohed her. “You sound like a yippy puppy. What are you going to do, piddle on her boots?”

As much as I enjoyed her zingers, Betty was not helping. I made a mental note to coach her on filtering her thoughts. I turned my attention back to Tova. “All those dates he canceled? He was performing. All the boxes of clothing and jewelry, they weren’t all for you. That wig you ran off with . . .”

I let the implication hang in the room and slowly sink in. I wasn’t sure who was going to throw up first, Tova or her assistant.

I walked to the coffee bar and poured them each a mug of water. “I met them last night.”

“Who?” Tova called out.

I returned with their water. “Here. Drink this. We met the drag queens at the Kitty Kat Club.”

She shook her head. “This can’t be true. He loved me. We talked about getting married. He was cutting back from the office. He hired another surgeon.”

“According to the ladies, he’d signed up to be part of a reality show about drag queens.”

Tova’s mug shattered on the hardwood. She continued to shake her head in denial. “I don’t believe you.”

“Stacie, take her home.”

Stacie set the water on the counter, shooting me a nasty look. “Let’s go, Tova. You’ll feel better after a nap. I’ve got something that will calm your nerves.”

Whatever Stacie was going to give her, it probably wasn’t going to be enough.

I LOVED SUNDAYS. After a relaxing session of doggie yoga, Missy and I walked on the beach. We were in the middle of a game of tag when Grey called letting me know he was home. Missy and I were both excited.

I invited him to stay at my place, but he wanted to sleep in his own bed. So Missy and I would be enjoying a sleepover at Grey’s. I grabbed a pizza from Gina’s on PCH, and we drove the twisty streets to Grey’s place in the highlands, otherwise known as The Top of The World. It was the best spot in town to experience the sunset.

I parked in Grey’s driveway. Missy jumped out of the Jeep and hightailed it for the door. I grabbed the pizza, my overnight bag, and purse and followed close behind. The door opened, and there he stood. He looked delicious.

“Hey.” I played it cool. What I really wanted to do was jump in his arms, but that was no way to treat a Gina’s pizza.

He took the pizza box from my hands. “Hey, yourself. What’s with the smile?” he asked.

“You’re cute.” I reached up and kissed him. He smelled clean. Man-soap clean. He must have just showered.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Missy’s already in the kitchen. Let’s go.”

“How was your trip?” I left my bag and purse in the living room and followed him.

“The bad guy got away.” He set the pizza on the table next to a bottle of red wine.

I ignored the immediate anxiousness that bucked at my insides. “What does that mean? Will you have to go back?”

Grey and danger were willing partners. I hated when I didn’t know where he was or exactly what he was doing. I didn’t trust the unknown, which was partly why I tended to jump headfirst too quickly. I needed to know what I was up against. Not Grey. He liked subterfuge, developing a strategy to outwit his opponent.

Up until recently, if I even mentioned his undercover work, he’d change the subject. We’d agreed to have more faith in each other. He promised to share what information he could, and I’d promised to stop worrying about what I couldn’t control. Some days it was harder than others. Personally, I preferred his cover life as an art gallery owner. At least then, I knew where he was. Plus he had a natural eye for great art.

He grabbed a couple of paper plates, and I grabbed the wine glasses. We quickly set the table.

“I’ll have to go back eventually,” he said.

“I’m sorry the target got away.” I hugged him. He felt good. Solid. Strong. I closed my eyes and savored the moment.

Grey kissed the top of my head. “What about you? What’s going on?”

I stepped out of his embrace and smiled. “I hired a part-time helper.”

“Good. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“I have to warn you, she might try to steal you away. I have a feeling she’s looking for a hook-up.”

He looked at me questioningly. “I’m sure I can handle her.”

My smile widened. “I don’t think so. Ol’ Betty’s one of a kind. Promise you won’t abandon me once you set eyes on her. She’s pretty feisty. Sometimes she reminds me of Grandma Tillie.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I can make that agreement. I think I need to see this Betty first. How’s Darby?”

We sat at the table and dug into our dinner.

“Recovering,” I answered around a mouthful of pizza.

“What does that mean?”

I washed down my food with a swallow of wine. “Well, Friday night we went to a drag bar. And yesterday I managed to get my brooch back from Caro.” A meatball rolled off my pizza and onto my lap. I pushed it onto the floor in front of Missy, who had camped under the table for any falling scraps.

“Brooch first. It will take least amount of explaining. Then I want to know about the club.”

I explained the calendar, photo shoots, and how Caro thought she’d flaunt the brooch in my face by wearing it. And how Darby talked her into taking it off. He wasn’t exactly proud of my duplicity, but he’d stopped fighting it. At least when it came to the brooch.

Then I mentioned the name of the drag club.

He shot a sideways glance my way. “Since when did you and Darby start hanging out at drag clubs?”

I wiped my mouth. “Don’t get mad.”

“I wasn’t. But every time you start a sentence with ‘don’t get mad,’ I automatically know I’m going to be mad.”

“I’m trying to break you of that horrible habit.” I leaned over and kissed him lightly on his nose.

“Is this about Jack O’Doggle?”

“Yes. Tova asked me to run interference for her while she retrieved a photo from his office. She got sidetracked by an ugly wig and left without the picture. I brought it back to the boutique with me. Betty mentioned she had a frame just like it with a secret hiding place for love notes.”

“So, naturally, you looked.” His cheek twitched.

Uh-oh. The cheek-tic.

“Of course. Only it wasn’t a love note, but an advertisement for a drag queen named Jackie O.”

I let him digest what I’d said for a few seconds. “The doctor performed in drag?” he asked.

“Yes. According to his drag mama, he wasn’t very good. But apparently there’s a producer in L.A. who saw something interesting about him, because he hired Jack for a reality show about new drag queens.”

“I thought you were going to stay out of this investigation.”

“I am. I will.” I placed my elbows on the table and leaned closer. “Think about it. So far, the police have no suspects other than Tova—”

“That you know of,” he clarified.

“True. It could have been a number of people. Gwen, the office manager, Ladasha the moody drag queen, the office staff—Heidi or Bailey—they were in love with him. Or it could even be the new doctor. Maybe he got greedy and wanted the practice all for himself.”

Grey dragged his fingers through his hair. “Mel, you have to stay out of this. Last time you poked your nose into police business, you almost got yourself killed.”

I smiled reassuringly. “But I didn’t.”

He leveled a look that shook me. He was about to explode. “You were lucky I was there to save you.”

I straightened. “You did not need to save me.”

“This is dangerous business. You have zero training. You act before you think, if you even think.”

My chest constricted, pinning down my bubbling anger. I stood and dumped my plate in the garbage.