The Hinky Velvet Chair (17 page)

“I’m not leaving,” the shopper snapped. “This boy changed my
life. I’ll pay his legal fees!”

“He’s not under arrest,” Jewel said tiredly. “Buzz. This
stuff you’re selling is raising Cain all over town, I have no idea how. Giorgio
lo Gigolo has filed a complaint against you. He says you’re hurting his
business. Plus, and I guess I have to keep telling you this until you get the
message, this stuff is a food or a drug or something. Consumable.” She pointed
down her throat. “If you can put it in your mouth?” She pointed at him. “You
can’t sell it. That can get you arrested and maybe jailed if anyone comes
forward to complain about ill effects.” She put her hand on his arm. “Work with
me, will ya, buddy?”

Buzz didn’t take his eyes off the backpack. “I want my
stuff.”

Jewel rolled her eyes. “Randy, can you scare up a bag?”

“Here,” the shopper said. She selected a small, elegant,
long-handled paper bag from her pile of shopping bags and dumped its contents into
another, larger, elegant paper bag.

They transferred all the little bottles into the new bag and
Jewel gave the backpack back to Buzz. He wrapped both arms around it, looking
calmer. Jewel sat him on a bench, Randy on one side and herself on the other.
The shopper hovered. Her lipstick was on crooked, Jewel noticed. And her
sneakers were missing their laces.

To Buzz, Jewel said, “We need to find out who’s bought this
stuff and what it did to them. So we go to every place around town where you’ve
sold it and talk to people. And you have to help because, if you don’t, I gotta
let the cops have you.”

Buzz looked scared. He whined, “Please, officer. I’ll be
good.”

The shopper butted in again. “I can tell you right now that
I bought some and it was wonderful. It changed my life. I haven’t been to
Elizabeth Arden in a month. I feel fabulous and I don’t care how I look,” she
said proudly.

Jewel remembered Leo at Spa On The Mile complaining about
his renegade hair client. Even Jewel could tell it had been ages since this
woman had seen the inside of a salon.

“So what did this — this potion do to you?”

“I told you. It made me feel gorgeous.” The shopper
shrugged. “It doesn’t taste bad. I only had one dose. God knows, if it ever
wears off, I’ll want more,” she added with determination. “So you better find
out where this young man is getting his supply. Otherwise a lot of very unhappy
women will be looking for him.”

“I bought a djinn in a bottle from him,” Randy said. “It was
drunk.”

“Genie,” Jewel said and bit her tongue.
Policy, remember?

The shopper blinked.
“Was
there a genie in the
bottle?”

“There was,” Randy said. “It smashed a hansom into a bridge
abutment and then set the hansom on fire.”

“Heavens!” The shopper clucked as Randy described with
relish how the fire had held up a five-way intersection at Lake Shore and Navy
Pier.

Jewel thought hard. Dr. Kauz was hawking this stuff through
Buzz. The potion made the victim feel great about herself. Kind of like the
Venus Machine, she realized, which made you irresistable to men whether you
wanted to be or not.
Holy crap.
She’d
turned Kauz loose in a house with that machine. He already had this potion that
women wanted. What could he do if he had both?

That must be why he
was so hot to come to Virgil’s.
To get the Venus Machine.
Plus Virgil has money and he’s a woo-woo
fan.
Maybe Kauz hoped to get campaign funding out of Virgil.

It didn’t add up yet, but she could feel it out there, some
wackadoodle plan in Kauz’s noggin that would combine magic and defrauding aging
women and running for mayor into something that would make the Fifth Floor
unhappy.

She just didn’t know what.

Yeah, but I’ve got him
cold on manufacturing and distributing an unlicensed drug.

That could stop him. She gnawed her lip.

She would have to put the case together carefully.

And she would have to find at least one unsatisfied customer
of Dr. Kauz’s potion. She turned to Kauz’s beta distributor.

“Buzz, I can keep you out of jail if you cooperate. Will you
help me? I don’t have time to chase all over town when I need you, and Randy
doesn’t like getting kicked in the head.”

Buzz nodded convulsively.

She framed her next question with care. “Ma’am, would you be
willing to testify on his behalf?”

“Of course. I’m Mrs. Noah Butt. My husband is Noah Butt,
Esquire, of Butt, Baron, Fessley and Queeg.”

“If I could talk to one or two other people who would concur
with your testimony—” Jewel paused.

“Of course!” Mrs. Butt beamed. “I’ve given samples to all my
friends. I meet Buzz here every week, just so I can share his potion with other
women. It changes our lives! We no longer waste our time and money on our
appearance. A few of us have even gone to stay at ashrams.”

Jewel fought an eyeroll. “You haven’t given up shopping.”

“There was a shoe sale at Lord & Taylor.”

Oh, well, shoes.

“Ma’am, do you, or did you, used to patronize any other
businesses besides Elizabeth Arden? Places that sell, oh, makeup and stuff?”
Jewel was weak on that sector of retail that catered to women’s insecurities. “You
must be saving a lot of money since you stopped buying that stuff.”

“Goodness, yes. My Arden bill alone was two thousand a
month. I got my makeup there, except for lip color, which I got from Neiman’s
or Lord & Taylor, and I saw Giorgio lo Gigolo once a month for a pedicure.
And I tried that new place in the Hancock Tower, Institute something, and then
I met Buzz and all that was over. Come to think of it, that’s where I met Buzz.
He was on the plaza outside, selling samples.”

Jewel hesitated while she had a sudden evil thought. “You’ve
been a great help, ma’am. If I find the source of the potion and it turns out
you can get it legally — if it’s safe — would you like me to phone you?” She’d
die first, but if she didn’t make the offer, Mrs. Noah Butt would smell a rat.
I’m turning into a con artist!
Clay
would be so proud.

“How thoughtful! That would be darling of you.” Mrs. Butt
glowed. “Take my card.”

Jewel realized that Kauz must not be ready to reveal himself
as the inventor of this stuff. Maybe he planned to stay in the background. The
potion might be full of cocaine or something.
I only had one dose,
Mrs. Noah Butt had said. So it was
non-addictive.
God knows, if it ever
wears off, I’ll want more.
Okay, non-addictive so far.

Hm. There was an idea. Let a herd of raging lipstick-o-holics
come banging on his spa door demanding more doses of an illegal drug, and watch
his campaign come tumbling down. She’d have to figure out how to orchestrate
that. Which gave her an idea.

“Mrs. Butt, I’d still like to be sure that no one has been harmed
by this potion. Here’s my card. If you remember the names of anyone you’ve
given it to, would you call me? We may ask you to make a statement.”

Mrs. Butt flushed. “Lord Pontarsais has only to ask.” She
languished in Randy’s direction, tucked two cards into her purse, and headed
for the elevator in her expensive, laceless sneakers.

Two cards?

Jewel sighed. “Thank God she’s gone. Let’s take a walk down
Michigan, the three of us, and visit Buzz’s pitches.” On the down escalator she
hissed to Randy, “Did you give her one of those bogus lord cards?”

Randy raised his eyebrows. “I could introduce myself as your
fellow investigator instead.”

“No!”

With his hand on the back of Buzz’s collar, Randy spoke
quietly. “I must be someone, Jewel.”

He was right. He couldn’t get by much longer before he got
challenged for real I.D. And it was her responsibility to provide it, if she
ever hoped to get him out of pajamas and into a job.

In the end, she would probably wind up asking Clay to get
him fake papers. Which would put her in Clay’s crooked debt again.

Wasn’t there a curse about this? You saved somebody’s life,
and then you were stuck with them for the rest of yours?

Jewel stopped in at Arden, then at Neiman’s, then Giorgio lo
Gigolo. She didn’t meet any more of Buzz’s potion customers but she found
plenty of unhappy beauty industry professionals. Randy kept Buzz out of sight
at each stop.

“I’m Jewel Heiss of the Department of Consumer Services, and
I’m doing a survey on consumer buying patterns on the Mile,” she said over and
over. “How’s business these days?”

“Business sucks,” said the manager at Elizabeth Arden, a
lacquer-finish brunette of forty. “We get plenty of tourists, but our regulars
have fallen way off.”

“Have any of these regulars disappeared for a while and then
come back?”
Don’t lead the witness,
Jewel.
“I mean, have you talked to them about why they left?”

The manager stared out the window onto Michigan Avenue. “We’re
not a dentist. We send reminder cards but we don’t pester our clients by phone.”
Her eyes turned to Jewel. “How come Consumer Services cares about my business?”

“You aren’t the only sufferer,” Jewel said, trying to look
official and inscrutable. “We’re seeking a pattern to explain the trouble
you’re experiencing.”

The manager nodded. “Good luck.”

The perfumes and makeup counter at Neiman’s had the same
story. “It’s like they all dialed 1-800-GIVE-A-SHIT and then got tired of
waiting on hold,” said a glossy girl with long legs.

“I saw one of my regulars at the Galaxy Theatre last night,”
said a metrosexual wearing thumb rings. “She smelled. I mean, she smelled
bad.”

This sounded promising. “Do you have her name and address?”

The clerks looked at each other. “It’s on her checks, but
she hasn’t come here for, like, two or three months,” he said.

Two or three months! Buzz had some explaining to do.

“I think her name’s Eunice. Or Beulah or something like
that,” said metrosexual.

“Beulah!” the leggy girl exclaimed. “It’s in diamonds in
loopy script on this huge-ass brooch. She always wears it.”

“You’ve been very helpful.” Jewel’s phone rang. “If you
remember anything else, call me?” She handed over her card with her left hand
and flipped open the phone with her right. “Hello?” Her eye rolled, seeking
Buzz. Whew, Randy had him by the elbow, waiting outside. She joined them,
phone-to-ear.

“Are you working this case or not?” Clay’s voice said
querulously. “I’m all alone here with two slavering mad scientists and two
women who hate each other’s guts and I can’t get anything done without you.”

“Where,” Jewel said, lowering her voice, “the hell were
you
this morning? You knew I needed to
talk to you, Clay Dawes. Or should I say Clay
Thompson?
And another thing. Randy needs some ID, stat. Something
solid. A crook like you should know where to get it.”

“Piece of cake,” he said. “When can you get back here?”

She eyed Buzz. He seemed docile enough. “Ten minutes. Hey,
did a package come for me from the office?”

Clay paused. “Yeah.”

What was
that
tone
about? “Oh. You opened it. It was addressed to me.”

“It was addressed to Jewel Heiss. I got to the door before
Himmler did, that butler, so no damage done. I had to open it to find out who
was dumb enough to break your cover.”

That would have been
me.
She should have told Ed she was working under an alias. No point
mentioning that.

“Well, if you haven’t done anything creative with the
contents, meet me at the Thompsons’ back gate in about ten minutes.”
Oh, duh. Clay must think I want to anklet
him! Well, let him sweat.
“I am so pissed at you.”

“Be pissed, but get here.” Clay hung up.

“You don’t hang up on your senior partner!” she yelled at
the dead phone, then turned to her companions. “Buzz, we’re going for a little
ride, and you’ll tell me some more about how long you’ve been at this, and this
time don’t lie.”

“Are you taking me to a back room with rubber hoses?” he
squeaked.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a rubber hose. We’ll ask
you some questions and then we’ll turn you loose. And when I phone you — you
have a cell, right? — you’ll answer and you’ll meet me when and where I want to
see you.”

Buzz relaxed. “Sure.”

Sure is right.
She
loved him like a kid brother but she wouldn’t trust him farther than she could
shotput his bicycle. Which reminded her. “We gotta swing by Water Tower and
pick up your piece-of-shit bike.”

“If it’s still there,” Buzz said glumly.

The bike was still there. Randy put the bike on the roof of
the Tercel and tied it down with some string Buzz had in the bottom of his
backpack.

While he was doing this, a garbage truck stopped in front of
them. Quick as thought, Buzz grabbed the bagful of teeny potion bottles out of
the Tercel’s front seat and hurled it into the truck’s maw just as the
compactor blade came down. The bottles popped like firecrackers.