Begging for Trouble (7 page)

Right around Christmas, Rob had told Ellie a sad tale about his dreadful family life, and since Sam was on duty and her mother and the judge were in Barbados, she’d invited him to spend the holiday with her and Flora Steinman. But it hadn’t been necessary. Rob was still on good terms with his sister in Phoenix, and he and Bitsy had flown there for the week.

“Do you think they know you were arrested?” Ellie asked, uncomfortable with the personal questions.

“I haven’t a clue, but I’ve talked to my sister. Kayla’s agreed to stay with me until I’m cleared of the charges. And if I’m not, well . . .” He shook his head. “She’ll take Bitsy home to live with her and Bradley.”

Hoping to drop the dismal family business, Ellie decided it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty. “I don’t mean to be intrusive, but can you explain what happened last night? I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me anything, of course, but I ran into Kronk and a group of angry tenants downstairs, so I know about the restriction management has put on allowing reporters and thrill seekers into the building.”

“Amazing, isn’t it? No one gives a damn about me. All the tenants care about is their precious right to privacy, and the newspapers can’t seem to talk about anything except the fact that I’m a drag queen and so was the victim. I have to be the killer. It’s nothing less than what any pervert would do.”

“So you’ve seen the papers?”

“I read them, and afterward I was ordered to clam up by Keller Williams, my attorney. He’d probably have a fit if he knew I was talking to you, but I really could use a friend right now, and the guys in the revue . . . Well, let’s just say I wasn’t close to any of them.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll be your sounding board until your sister shows up.” Ellie rested her elbows on her knees. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Why not? It’s all going to come out anyway. The victim was Art Pearson, stage name Carmella Sunday. We weren’t lovers, as the papers suggest, and we certainly weren’t friends. In fact, Carmella could barely tolerate me.”

“So he—er—she was just someone working in your show?”

“She danced in the revue, but she wasn’t just any performer. Carmella was my understudy. If I got ill or couldn’t go on for any reason, she had my numbers down pat.” Rob stood. “Hang on a second. Let me show you something.”

He left the room and Ellie bit back a sigh. It sounded as if this Keller Williams guy had a pretty good idea of how to handle the press. She only hoped he was a decent trial attorney.

Rob returned and passed her an eight-by-ten glossy. “Take a look at this.”

Ellie gazed at the photo, a picture of Rob in full drag, complete with the ice blue satin gown he wore during his second number. “Um, I don’t understand. This is you the way you looked in your final song last night.”

“But that isn’t me,” he said, his expression bleak.

She held the photo at arm’s length and studied it. The person in the picture wore the same blond wig and elbow-length gloves, the identical headpiece. . . . If this guy wasn’t Rob, it was someone who had him down cold. “It’s not?”

“Nope. That’s a picture of Carmella Sunday, vamping as my understudy.”

Ellie blinked back her surprise. “But he—er—she looks exactly like you.”

“Spooky, isn’t it?” Rob shrugged. “It’s the makeup, of course, and the wig. Cosmetics work wonders, but Art and I do have the same basic features, eye color, face shape, that sort of thing. Trouble is . . .”

She moved to the edge of her chair. “Go on.”

“The trouble is he auditioned for the part I have in the show as well, only we were called up in last-name order so I performed ahead of him. Apparently Carmella’s act was similar to mine, our wigs are almost identical, and we sing a few of the same songs. When she heard me onstage, she raised a huge stink, claimed I’d stolen her shtick
,
said she’d take me to court, the works.”

“But you didn’t copy her act?”

“Lord, no. I’d been playing in small clubs around the country for a couple of years, even before my parents disowned me. Carmella was strictly a Big Apple celebrity. She claimed I must have seen her act after I moved here, then worked up something just like it and come to the tryouts ready to go.”

“How did you find out about the show’s casting call?”

“I subscribe to a couple of Web sites that announce openings for movie and television roles, plus live shows as they become available. I assume Carmella did, too, but we never discussed it. Apparently she canceled her last gig at a small club in the Village because she was positive she’d get one of the leads at Guess Who.” He ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I still can’t believe this has happened.”

“How are the police tying you to the murder?” Ellie bit the inside of her cheek before she could add “other than finding you next to the body with the murder weapon in your hand.” “They need a motive to make a good case, and since Carmella wanted your job, I’d be more willing to believe she was planning to kill you, or at least find a way to take over your role.”

“Funny you should say that, because I often thought she was looking for a way to get me kicked off the show. Things calmed down over the last month and she seemed to accept the job of understudy, and that’s what I told the cops, but they didn’t believe me. Said they had me at the site with the weapon in hand, and I had a motive—getting rid of my competition.”

Ellie cringed internally. She’d been involved in the murder investigation business for a while now, and she knew what the cops would believe. Unless someone could convince Sam and Vince there was a more logical motive, they would never listen to a word Rob said. “Then you’ll just have to find a way to prove them wrong.”

He shook his head. “My attorney said they’d come around once he had a chance to run a background check on Carmella. He claims she could have been killed by anyone: a past lover, a current lover, a random murder by someone who hated gays—”

“So Carmella was definitely gay?”

“That was the talk around the dressing room. The gay drag queens outnumber the straight ones by ten to one, and the straight guys don’t talk about it for fear of being snubbed by the others. I just kept my mouth shut, but I’m sure people in the cast figured it out.”

“Are you aware of anyone who might have it in for you enough that they would frame you for the crime?”

He shrugged again. “I doubt it, but who knows. It was just such a shock returning to the dressing room and finding her like that. I saw her lying in that pool of blood and thought I could help.” He stared at the floor, as if trying to recall the details. “When I bent down, my feet slipped out from under me and I sort of fell against her body. My hand touched the scissors and it was automatic.” He rested his head on the sofa back and closed his eyes. “My fingers curled around them and I pulled.”

“Was it you that screamed?” Ellie asked.

“I was too terrified to say a word. The screamer was Regina Devine. She was standing in the corner of the room when you looked in. The three headliners shared that dressing room with their understudies: Carmella, Regina, and Frieda. It’s convenient for rehearsals, so I imagine she was coming in to take a break. When she saw me with the body, I guess she just lost it.”

“And you think Carmella was in there to freshen her makeup or redo her hair?”

He raised his hands in a who-knows? gesture. “Those are the obvious choices, but she had a couple of minutes before performing in the finale. Maybe she just wanted to sit and put her feet up.”

Sliding back in her chair, Ellie decided it might be less than smart to press Rob any further. He needed time to go over things, maybe consult with his attorney again, or merely get a good night’s sleep. She only wanted to clarify two more points. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone run from the room as you made your way there?”

“It was opening night and I was a hit. Instead of leaving the wings immediately after the encore, I hung out for a minute or two, basking in the applause and congratulations from the stage people.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “Hell, I don’t know. I vaguely remember someone walking toward the back of the building as I approached the room, but I have no idea who he was or where he’d come from. I’m not even sure it was a man. It could have been a crew member, one of the other girls going to a different dressing room . . . anyone.”

“It’s just my opinion, but I think you should take some downtime, relax and try to recall everything that happened. Let it play over in your mind, maybe write it down in an outline—whatever works.”

His shoulders dropped as he looked at her. “You’re probably right. I’m so damn tired I can barely think straight. My brain should be clearer in the morning.”

“That’s the spirit. Now, last thing—do you have any idea why someone would want Carmella dead?”

“You’d have to ask the other girls. There were a few I thought she might be close to. I only know most of them by their first name, but I did give the cops a list. I’m sure Detective Ryder would let you—”

“Ah, no. He wouldn’t.” After glancing at her watch, Ellie stood. “I’m sorry to leave you, but I have dinner plans, and I’ll be late even if I go now.”

“But you’ll bring Bitsy home tomorrow, right?”

That depended on the outcome of Dr. Dave’s exam, but she’d worry about it after he checked the poohuahua out. “Um, sure. When is your sister scheduled to arrive?”

Rob stood and followed her to the door. “Her flight gets in at three, but she may have a bit of trouble getting here.”

“Trouble? Just have her catch a cab. They’ll be lined up and ready to go outside the terminal.”

He leaned against the hallway wall. “That will all depend on Bradley, I’m afraid.”

Ellie had assumed that was the name of Kayla’s husband or son. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Does Bradley have a problem?”

“Not according to Bradley he doesn’t, but the choice of a ride won’t be up to him. It’s going to depend on the cabbie.”

“Okay, now you’ve lost me.” She grabbed the doorknob. “Speak English, please.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m too wrapped up in my own problems to discuss my sister’s. Bradley is a dog.”

Ellie grinned. “A dog? Well, that should be a piece of cake. Almost every driver in this city will transport a canine. They might charge her an extra fee, but if it’s the cost of the ride you’re worried about, they all take credit cards. They’d probably even give her a hand juggling things if she had too much luggage. If that didn’t work, I’m sure Randall would ring you when they arrived so you could come down and pay the tab.”

“It’s not the money. Kayla has a trust fund, too, and she’s been careful with her investments.”

Tired of playing the guessing game, Ellie said, “Well, then, don’t keep me in suspense. What the heck is Bradley’s problem?”

Rob gave his first real smile of the visit. “How about if I let you see for yourself? Consider it a surprise.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like this one. Bring Bitsy home after you finish second rounds tomorrow. Kayla and Bradley should be settled in by then, and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Okay, now I’m really curious—but I can wait.” Before stepping into the hall, she reached out and touched Rob’s hand. In an instant, he was clinging to her the way a drowning man clutches a life preserver.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

She hugged him and moved away. “Thank me? But I didn’t do anything.”

“You took Bitsy into your home without asking a single question, and you’ve treated me as if you know I’m innocent. That’s huge in my book.”

She smiled encouragement. “That’s because you
are
innocent. And Bitsy’s like family. If I needed help, I’d expect you to do the same for Rudy and me.”

“Then you have my promise. If I get out of this situation with my life intact, I’ll owe you one.”

 

Ellie took the direct route home. After entering the building, she retrieved her mail, still pondering what Rob had told her. The idea of him being a murderer was preposterous. She couldn’t envision him killing anyone for any reason. He was a nice guy, intelligent and reserved, who seemed to let go only when performing onstage.

Climbing the stairs, she told herself there had to be more to the story, something Rob wasn’t telling her. Something he’d forgotten. It was important for Sam to question the girls Rob said were Carmella’s friends, but if she told him how to do his job, she’d be so deep in trouble that she would need a ladder to climb back to ground level. She would have to drop a hint or make an innocent statement that would put the idea in his head.

Then again, her darling but wily detective had probably taken care of it already, or was going to. And if he had, she’d love to find out what those other girls had said. If they could shed some light on Carmella’s life, or know a reason why someone might want her dead, the case would practically solve itself.