The Corpse Wore Cashmere

by Sylvia Rochester

  “Mr. Fleming said you’re not to be billed for any meals; just sign the tab so he’ll know it was you. I see that Deputy Lightfoot found you.”

  “That’s awfully nice of Mr. Fleming. Yes, the deputy did pay me a visit. You know him?”

  “Let’s just say I know of him. I avoid cops whenever possible. Mind if I ask what he was doing here? This isn’t his beat. He works in Gulfport.”

  Susan saw this as a bargaining chip. Maybe she could use Deputy Lightfoot’s appearance to get Miguel to open up. “I’ll tell why he was here if you’ll answer a few questions for me.”

  Miguel twisted his mouth from side to side. “On one condition—you didn’t hear anything from me.”

  “Deal. Deputy Lightfoot used to be partners with Dylan Powell, who’s now my significant other’s partner. Dylan asked Lightfoot to see what he could find out about Lorraine, her friends, and why she left Biloxi.”

  “Huh, if anyone knows anything, I doubt they’d tell him. Cops usually mean trouble.”

  “You might be right. He said he was batting zero. Now it’s my turn. Why do you think Lorraine left Biloxi?”

  Miguel looked around the room then scooted his chair closer to Susan. “Lorraine came across to everyone as the bubbly, carefree hostess, but she didn’t fool me. The woman was no bimbo. She was cunning and calculating, and I know she had something else going.”

  “Like what?”

  “The woman had expensive taste. Her salary couldn’t begin to cover what she spent at the tables or on jewelry, not to mention her car. Every year she turned in her Lexus for the latest model, always silver and always loaded. I wouldn’t mind having a set of wheels like that.”

  “Then where did she get all that money?”

  “Let’s face it. Casinos are not a squeaky-clean business. Most employees are looking for a tip or kickback. The hostess is no exception. It’s common knowledge she gets a commission from the escort service. How much depends on how many clients she brings in.”

  Susan raised her eyebrows.

  “I know what you’re thinking. We’re not supposed to do that sort of thing, but all the hotels do. We want to keep the guests happy and coming back. But Lorraine got greedy. The escort service doesn’t want a paper trail, so all transactions are cash. I watched her pocket money.” Miguel frowned and shook his head. “Wrong move. Skimming from the agency is like stealing from the mob.”

  “Are you suggesting that the agency had her killed?”

  “I’m just saying Lorraine was stupid if she thought she could get away with it.”

  “Did she have any close friends?”

  “She dated lots of guy, but it was obvious she had something special going with one of the escorts, a guy named Randy Harper.” Miguel’s lip curled into a smirk at the mention of the man’s name. “I wouldn’t put it past him to be dipping into the cash with her. Those two always had their heads together. ”

  “I take it you didn’t care much for Randy.”

  “You got that right. You know the type—good looking, and he knows it.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “About six-feet-two, slim build, dark hair and eyes. Think a young Sean Connery. Why do looks matter so much? It’s what’s inside that should count.”

  “I agree, but life doesn’t work that way”

  “He makes me sick the way he flirts with every woman who flashes dollar signs, regardless of her age. The worse thing is they all fall for his line.” Miguel motioned to a nearby table where a group of elderly women sat nursing cocktails. “What’s with older women? Can’t they tell when they’re being used?”

  Susan shrugged. “Maybe to them bad company is better than no company at all.”

  “At what price? Randy doesn’t come cheap. That’s like selling your dignity.”

  “Would you point out Randy to me?”

  “Sure. You can bet he’ll be working the crowd this weekend.”

  “Thanks, Miguel. You’ve been a big help. And I’ll keep my promise. I won’t let anyone drag you into this investigation.” Susan glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back and help A. K., or she might fire me.” She grinned.

  Susan was itching to tell Wesley what Miguel had said about Randy and Lorraine, but she also knew Wesley would be busy interviewing the lunch crowd at the Rusty Nail. She decided it would have to wait a little longer. She reached the mezzanine to find a flurry of customers picking through costumes. A. K.’s scowl told her in unspoken words to get her butt in gear.

  “Sorry,” she said, rushing past A. K. to a group of young ladies laughing and joking with one another.

  “No, not that one,” a petite brunette said. “Go sexy.” She picked up a low-cut blouse and sheer skirt. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  “Hey, I wanted that one,” another in her group shouted.

  Susan stepped between them. “Easy, girls, we have duplicates. You can change up the colors so you won’t look exactly the same. How about adding these?” She grabbed several scarves, gold wrist bands, and jewel necklaces. “And what’s a lady pirate without a pistol?”

  They all laughed and relieved her of the trinkets.

  Around five o’clock, the rush of customers ended. Susan moseyed over to the banister and looked down onto the lobby floor. It was packed with people in costume all heading into the ballroom. An announcer’s voice blared over speakers. “Gather round, ye land lubbers. A battle on the high seas will soon begin.”

  “What’s that all about?” she asked A. K.

  “The schedule says there’s going to be a mock battle between a pirate ship and a British man-o-war. After that, a dance will follow. Looks like the hotel is going all out to entertain the guests.”

  “Speaking of management, Mr. Fleming is heading our way.”

  The rotund little man huffed his way up the stairs. “From the looks of things, you’re selling a lot of costumes. That’s good to see. Seeing everyone masquerading really adds flavor to the festival. I’ve taken the liberty to post a marquee in the lobby saying the costume shop will be opened Friday through Saturday from nine to five, and am here to remind you it’s time to close up shop. After all, you have to be free to enjoy the festivities, too, and today’s fun is about to begin.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” A. K. said. She handed Susan the cash box and gave a farewell salute. “I’m going for a drink and then to find dance partners.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Fleming. I believe we make a good team.” Susan pulled the gate to the kiosk closed and locked it. As she turned to go, a loud boom reverberated through her body. What the—?”

  “Cannon fire,” Mr. Fleming said. “Did it shiver your timbers?”

  “That, and it just about gave me a heart attack?”

  He laughed.

  “As soon as I put my things away, I’ll be down.”

  Mr. Fleming left, this time taking the elevators, and she hurried to her room and locked up the cash box. Once there, she thought about calling Wesley; another loud boom, followed by wild cheers, changed her mind. No time, she thought. She’d hear from him later and tell him then. If he didn’t call by bedtime, she’d give a ring. Besides, it was probably wise not to interrupt him. Her news would keep.

  She paused on her way out and checked her appearance. Good thing. She looked as if she had been pulled through a wringer, and she had. Her mascara was smudged, her base worn thin, and her lips naked. Time for a repair job. A few minutes later, she had refurbished her face, which in turn lifted her spirits. Not bad, she thought.

  She was hoping the evening might present another opportunity for her to find out more about Lorraine. What she really wanted was a chance to meet Randy. Then Kerry Lightfoot popped into her mind, along with A. K.’s description—babysitter. She knew Kerry was there to help her if he could, but she wanted to show Wesley that she was capable of helping him. She’d like nothing better than to outdo Kerry with information on the case.

  Susan stepped into the ballroom and st
ared in amazement. From opposite walls, one side of a sailing ship faced the other, their gun ports opened. As she made her way to the bar, the cannons belched fire and roared. The sound was deafening. Mock explosions erupted on the decks. Smoke billowed from the cargo holes. Pirates climbed the rigging of their ship and swung from ropes attached to the ceiling. They flew overhead and boarded the other ship. Swords clashed; blood spewed from the combatants. The crew of the merchant ship was no match for the pirates.

  The crowd cheered as a muscular buccaneer climbed to the poop deck and proclaimed victory. Then he rappelled down to the well-lighted bar that stretched the length of the back wall. There he beckoned for everyone to join him in a round of drinks.

  Above the bar, on a replica of a seaside dock, sat the band. Immediately, silk screens dropped from the ceiling and covered the two ships. The painted props transformed the ballroom into a giant tavern, much like the one in the lobby with plastered walls, windows, and huge inset beams. Lanterns glowed atop tables that lined the walls, leaving the center of the room open for dancing.

  With the first note of music, eager revelers packed the dance floor. The swirling mass of colors left Susan dizzy. She worked her way around the room to the bar. As luck would have it, she found an empty seat and again turned her attention to the dance floor. A. K. was somewhere in that moving mass of humanity. Resigned to the fact that she might never find her, Susan swiveled on her seat and got the bartender’s attention.

  “Hey, you’re the costume lady. Right? Remember me? Sam. I gotta tell you that the babes really like my outfit. This drink is on me. What’ll you have?”

  “VO and Sprite, please.”

  He brought her drink and gave her a long, studied look. “Whew! You’re going to have to fight them off tonight.”

  “Thanks. Compliments are always welcomed.”

  “It’s a rowdy group tonight, so be careful. But if anyone gives you any trouble, you just let me know. I’ll take care of them.”

  “Thanks.” Susan knew he meant well, but she could have done without his remark. First, Wesley sent a babysitter. Now the bartender wanted to play protector. Did she really look that helpless?

  The man beside her on the left got tagged for a dance, and another person took his place. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Captain Blackbeard, at your service.” He rose and gave a sweeping bow.

  Susan recognized the costume as one of theirs but didn’t recognize the voice. He stood over six feet, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. The latex mask with long black hair and a full beard covered all his features. He must have been one of A. K.’s customers.

  “Pleased to meet you, Captain Blackbeard. Do you have another name?”

  “Edward Teach.”

  “Funny. And I’m Anne Bonney.”

  “Touché. But what’s in a name? If you’re here Saturday night, I’ll reveal my true identity. Until then, could I persuade you to grant me a dance?”

  Susan didn’t feel right, dancing with someone other than Wesley, but she convinced herself that he would want her to have a good time. What harm would it do? Not only was she surrounded by hundreds of people, but she had the bartender ready to come to her aid should she feel threatened. She nodded and extended her hand. When he reached for it, she noticed a tattoo on the back of his wrist, something that looked like a pitchfork.

  Before she could ask him about it, he pulled her into his arms and whirled her around the dance floor. Although five foot ten, she felt small next to him. His rock-hard body took total control, directing her every move. With each beat of the music, she breathed in his cologne, a blend of oriental spices and a woodsy scent. What have I gotten myself into? And him marked with a pitchfork no less? Lord, please don’t let him be the devil.

  As she swayed to the music, she found herself longing for the security of Wesley’s familiar embrace—strong but gentle. Only with him did she find comfort and safety.

  The music ended and the stranger escorted her back to the bar. She had thought of a number of reasons why she had to leave, why she couldn’t stay for one more dance, but he turned the tables on her. He didn’t try to coerce her into spending more time with him. Neither did he insist she join him in another drink nor pressure her for another dance.

  Instead, he said his goodbye. “I hate that I have to run, but I have a prior engagement. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance tomorrow.”

  Relief flooded Susan’s mind. At the same time, she felt foolish for being afraid of him. Seemed she had let her paranoia get the best of her and misjudged him. “How can I refuse?”

  He gave another bow and exited the ballroom.

  Susan took a sip of her drink.

  “Having fun?” Miguel looked over her shoulder.

  “I must say the battle scene and the conversion of the room to a tavern were most impressive.”

  “Not to mention the kick-ass band. But your costumes make it all seem real. So much so, I hate to see it end.”

  “You’re a man after my own heart, Miguel—a dreamer.”

  He shrugged.

  “You said you’d point Randy out to me.”

  He scanned the room. “I know he’s here somewhere. Randy wouldn’t miss this for anything, but I don’t see him. See how good you are at disguising people?”

  “Well, when you do spot him, be sure to get my attention.” She left a tip on the bar. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to make a call and can’t hear anything in here.”

  “Will I see you later?”

  “Maybe.”

  Susan skirted the room and exited through the lobby doors. By the time she reached the stairs, the VO and Sprite had worked its magic. Her legs and arms felt like rubber, but not so much that she couldn’t control them. Her eyes, while focused, seemed detached, as if she were seeing things through someone else’s eyes. Relaxed—that was her overall feeling. A single drink usually did that to her. So one was her limit. Any more and she turned into a mindless blob. She giggled to herself as she entered her room.

  Through the glass doors overlooking the gulf, the lights of a boat on the water caught her attention. She opened the sliding doors and stepped out onto her balcony. The white sand beach was illuminated under the moon’s glow. That’s when she noticed a solitary figure strolling down the white expanse—Blackbeard. Could he be the one she had danced with?

  Chapter 7

  Stepping back into her room, Susan closed the glass door and locked it. “Forget about the mystery man,” she mumbled and pulled the cell phone from her purse. Her call to Wesley went to his voicemail, and she left him a message.

  “Hi, it’s me. I discovered a few things you might find interesting. Call me when you get a chance.”

  Tapping the phone against her leg, she eased over to the balcony door and looked down again at the beach. It was empty. The ringing of her phone startled her.

  “Sorry I couldn’t take your call. I was tied up. So, you have some news for me?”

  Susan sat on the bed and told Wesley what Miguel had said about Randy and Lorraine. “Oh, and Deputy Lightfoot came by and introduced himself.”

  “You didn’t let him know you were asking questions about Lorraine, did you? The less anyone knows what you’re doing, the better.”

  “I don’t believe I did, but he might have picked up on that from some of the staff. I asked if he’d found out anything. He said he hadn’t, but that was earlier in the day. Have you heard back from him?”

  “Sure did. He also said Randy and Lorraine seemed to be an item, but he didn’t mention anything about them cheating the escort agency. I can’t imagine anyone would volunteer that information to him. He did mention that Randy had some prior offenses and said he’d fax Randy’s rap sheet and mug shot to me. Often a photo will trigger recognition. I’m going to keep working the Rusty Nail. Sometimes, persistence pays off.”

  “How’s it going with Karl? Did you manage to get a warrant for his bank records?”

  “As it stands, I don’t have enough p
robable cause. If I could get an affidavit from Miguel, that might help, but from what you said, he’s not about to get involved. I’m thinking Zelda might be the way to go.”

  “What do mean?”

  “I did some checking and found out Karl will be on the golf course tomorrow. I’ll play ignorant about his whereabouts and pay Zelda a visit. I’ll say I’m still working Lorraine’s murder and have a few questions I’m sure the mayor can clear up for me. I’ll stress that we don’t suspect the mayor of anything, but since his name came up numerous times when we checked the register at Lorraine’s place of employment, the Pirates’ Reef Hotel, we’re obligated to question him. The sooner we clear him, the better.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see her face. She might defend Karl, but if you’re right about them having marriage problems, that’s sure to make her blood boil. Zelda is not about to let anyone make a fool of her, and I’m sure she’ll check into their finances. If she follows the money trail, I might not need that warrant after all.”

  Susan nodded while listening to Wesley. “If someone dropped that kind of information on me, you can bet I’d get to the bottom of it. Then I’d kick that you-know-what out the door.”

  “Okay, enough about my work. How’s the festival going?”

  “It’s terrific.” Susan spent the next several minutes describing the decorations and telling him about the battle scene. “I even danced with Blackbeard.” She laughed.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “You know better than that.” A loud thud came over the phone. “What was that?”

  “My shoes hitting the floor. My feet are killing me. Time to give them a break.”

  Susan looked down at her boots. “I know what you mean. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how it went with Zelda, probably after five when I’m back in my room. Anywhere else, it’s hard to hear. Try to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “You too. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”