Anna takes one look at me and shakes her head. She undoes all of the buttons on the blouse and ties the ends together under my breasts. “There, that’s better.”
“I’m practically naked,” I hiss.
She shrugs. “It’s a titty bar. I think they want to see tits.” She takes off my glasses and places them in her pocket. Then, she reaches up and takes the band out from my ponytail and quickly finger combs my hair.
“Hey!” A man enters the dressing room, and I nearly hit the ceiling when I jump at the sound of his voice. The door was open the entire time I was changing. OMG! He could have seen everything. “What music you want?”
“Paradise City by Guns N’ Roses,” Anna answers before I can even process the question. He nods and takes off without another glance at me or my outfit. Guess he’s used to seeing naked or nearly naked women running around here all the time.
Anna pushes me out the dressing room door towards the back of the stage. The man is standing in front of a massive sound system. He looks up as I approach. “All ready whenever you are.”
I gulp and nod. He smiles. “You’ll be fine.”
“Just do the routine from class,” Anna whispers as I slowly make my way up the stage. At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on my heels since I’m barefoot.
The familiar notes of Guns N’ Roses starts, and I move to the pole. I can do this. I take a deep breath and wait for the first words of the song. My head starts to bob with the drumbeat and then I’m off. I’m actually doing this. I’m swirling around the pole. I’m concentrating so hard on remembering the routine we learned in class that I don’t have time to be nervous. I think I may even flip my hair a few times.
The song finishes, and I stop to catch my breath. I start to escape but am stopped by the man who I assume is the manager. “What’s your name, babe?”
No way I’m giving him my real name. I desperately search the room for inspiration. “Miller,” I say when my eyes lock on the beer taps.
“When can you start?”
“What?” I scrunch my eyes in confusion.
“We’re short staffed at the moment. Lost one of our best dancers.” Dolly was one of their best dancers?
I snort and pretend to be the stripper they’re interviewing. “What’d she do? Get pregnant?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Got herself killed.”
“Oh my!” I say with fake shock and put my hand over my heart. “I don’t know if I can work somewhere dangerous.” Where is this coming from?
“No worries,” the other man says and waves his hand as if to dismiss my fears. “She wasn’t killed here.”
“Did she take a John home?” I do another snort. At least I hope it sounds like a snort. It’s really hard to fake a snort. “She should know better.”
“Honey, the woman was a pro. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it. You’re perfectly safe with us.” Now I really want to snort. “When can you start?”
I’m just about to tell him I don’t want the job when I see Anna behind the bar nodding her head and mouthing next week. Bugger. “Next week.”
“Dale will help you with the paperwork.” Who the heck is Dale? The music man comes forward and touches my elbow.
“Come on, I’ll help you.” Anna meets us in the hallway and hands me my glasses before slipping away again. Dale takes me to a tiny office behind the stage and hands me a bunch of employment paperwork. I try not to act surprised. I figured strippers were paid under the table. Not like I have any experience except for television and movies.
I decide I can’t let the opportunity to question a colleague of Dolly’s go. “Do you really think it’s safe?” I speak softly, hoping that makes me sound frightened.
“Yeah,” he nods. “No worries. Dolly was a piece of work. Everyone is pretty much convinced her current boyfriend had her taken care of.”
“Really!” I don’t have to fake sounding fascinated. Not when I may be learning the name of Dolly’s killer. “Why?”
Dale shrugs. “Typical BS. He was married; she threatened to tell the wife unless he gave her a bunch of money.”
“Wow,” I breathe out. “It sounds like a soap opera.”
“Honey,” he smiles at me. “If that sounds like a soap opera, you’re gonna love working here. It’s drama all day, every day.” He starts to leave. “Just bring that to me when you’re done filling it out.”
“Sure,” I say. “By the way, what was her boyfriend’s name?” He looks at me a bit odd, so I add. “Just so I know who to stay away from when I’m working here.”
He nods. “Doctor Abram or Abramson or something like that.”
“Thanks,” I smile.
Anna finds me while I’m filling out the paperwork with a fake name and made-up address and phone number. She’s holding up my clothes and shoes. “Thank goodness,” I say and start moving out of the room. “Let’s get out of here.”
We quickly locate Dale, and I give him the absolutely worthless paperwork before we practically run out of the place. I don’t even bother to get changed, although I do throw my t-shirt on over the slutty school girl outfit.
“I got nothing,” Anna says once we’re safely ensconced in the car.
“But I did. I think I may not only have a suspect but the murderer. After all…” I turn to Anna with an evil grin on my face. “Who better to murder a woman than her married boyfriend?”
Chapter 13
According to this BMI chart, I’m too short.
Instead of spending my morning working on the never ending avalanche of administrative paperwork for the bakery the next morning, I’m checking medical directories for a doctor in the region named Abram or Abramson. Except I can’t find one. By the time Anna arrives, I’m ready to throw my laptop against the wall and start screaming.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning.” She gently pries the laptop from my fingers and sets it down on the desk. “What’s up?”
“I can’t find any doctors named Abram or Abramson in the entire region!”
Anna grabs my laptop and sits on the chair in front of my desk. “What about similar names? Like Abraham or something?” She starts typing away. After a moment she looks up and shakes her head. “Hmm…let me try adding an S or something.” It doesn’t take long before she’s shouting in triumph. “There’s a Dr. Abrahams, a gynecologist. He’s at the University Medical Center.”
“What’s his number?” I ask as I reach for my phone.
Anna grabs my phone out of my hand. “It’s just after four in the morning! I don’t think you want to be calling right now.” Bummer, I hate it when she’s right. She hands me my laptop with the website open to the doctor’s information on the medical center’s page. “Time to bake!” she shouts in excitement before skipping to the kitchen.
I try to sort through the inventory sheets to prepare this week’s supply order, but I can’t concentrate. I give up after thirty minutes and join Anna in the kitchen. She can always use some help. At six, I open the bakery while Anna works on preparing sandwiches for the lunch crowd. The first two hours are always a rush of professionals grabbing coffee and muffins to go before heading out to their respective work places. As the fall semester has yet to start at the University, there aren’t many students mingling around.
At exactly 8 a.m. I shout at Anna to take over the front so I can call Dr. Abrahams. I go into my office and shut the door before dialing his office number. “Dr. Abrahams office, how may I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to Dr. Abrahams, please.”
“Are you a patient?”
I shake my head. “Um no. This is for a private matter.”
“Honey, everything in this office is for a private matter.” I blush as I remember Abrahams is a gynecologist.
I clear my throat. “Er, I mean it doesn’t have anything to do with a medical condition.”
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not a patient and this is a personal matter, but you
don’t have the doctor’s private number, I can’t help you.”
I take a deep breath and lie. “You got me. It is for a medical condition. Gosh, this is embarrassing.” I don’t know where that last part came from, but all I have to do is think of my pole dancing performance yesterday and I’m feeling as embarrassed as I just pretended to be.
“Okay,” she chirps. “I can make an appointment for you. When can you come in?”
“When is your earliest appointment?”
“I can pencil you in for Saturday at two. How’s that sound, hon?”
“Great,” I say and give her my information. Now I just need to come up with a gynecological medical issue. Oh yeah, no need to fake embarrassment now.
I’ve only just set down my phone when it rings again. “Hello?”
“Hold for Mr. Advocaat.” Oh great, my defense attorney’s calling. It’s only 8 a.m. How much worse can this day get?
Mr. Advocaat comes onto the line. “Ms. Muller?”
“Callie, please,” I automatically respond.
“Callie, then.” He clears his throat. “I received the surveillance tape from the gym. Do you want to come over here and view it?”
“Yes, that’d be great. Are you available this afternoon after the bakery closes?” In the lull between summer semester and fall semester, we’re always a bit short on part-time workers. And I’m sure if I try to leave Anna behind, she’ll start a riot or something.
“No problem. How does five sound?” We set the appointment and hang up. Should I ask Ben to come with? I don’t want to jeopardize his career, but he’s the one with investigative experience. I decide to just go for it and quickly text him to ask him to meet me at the attorney’s office to watch the surveillance tape from the gym. Naturally, he responds that he’ll pick me up at the bakery.
♥♥♥
I’m doing a last wipe down of the tables in the café when Ben arrives. He knocks on the door and smiles at me. I roll my eyes at him but open the door. He sweeps me into his arms immediately. He kisses me as if he’s been missing me for years instead of just a few days.
He ends the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s only been since Monday,” I giggle.
He closes his eyes and sighs. “I can’t believe that I finally have you in my arms, but I have to stay away to protect you.”
Anna ruins the moment by shouting, “Are you guys gonna make out all day in the bakery or are we going to see the lawyer?” I turn to her and she winks at me. I shake my head at her, and Ben releases me.
“My car’s out front.” Ben nods to the car parked directly in front of the bakery.
“I’ll check that the back door is locked,” Anna says and rushes off. We try to leave the back door locked at all times, but it doesn’t hurt to check. She’s back in less than a minute, and we all head out to Ben’s car.
The drive to Advocaat’s office takes less than fifteen minutes. His office is in the typical office park setting. Although the planners have obviously made an attempt to create a nicer atmosphere by adding green areas, it’s still sterile. Advocaat’s secretary ushers us into a conference room. She tells us to take whatever refreshments we’d like from the sideboard and then leaves us alone.
I take a seat while Ben moves to the drinks. He grabs a Coke and a Sprite. He places the Sprite in front of me before taking a seat next to me. I shake my head. “How do you know everything about me?”
He smiles and winks at me. “Did you forget I’m a detective?”
My attorney entering the room forestalls my response. He’s carrying a large manila folder, and I panic for a moment. Is that my file? How can the police possibly think I killed Dolly? Ben must sense my growing panic. His hand moves to my neck, and he rubs circles into my skin with his thumb.
“Good afternoon, Callie. Thanks for coming in.” He nods at Ben and Anna before grabbing a remote control from the table. “Let’s get started, shall we?” Apparently, defense attorneys don’t do small talk.
There’s a large flat screen television covering a large area of one wall of the room. A black and white video starts to play. Although the picture is fuzzy, it’s clearly the parking lot outside of the gym. Advocaat fast forwards a bit. “Hold on. I’ll just queue it to where the car is keyed.”
“Which car is it?” Ben asks as he stands and moves to stand directly in front of the screen.
Advocaat pauses for a moment and points to an SUV taking up two parking spots. When Ben nods, he starts the video again. A figure enters the screen, and I stand to get a better look. It’s impossible to tell if the person is a man or woman as the body is completely covered in baggy, dark clothes and the hair is covered by the hood of the sweatshirt he or she is wearing.
What is obvious is the person’s size. “There’s no way that’s me. Whoever it is—is way too skinny to be me.” No one responds to my outburst, and I continue to watch the tape.
The person doesn’t bother to look around before moving directly to the SUV and taking out a key. He or I guess it could be she places the key against the middle of the front door and keys the SUV from front to back. “Wow!” Anna says. “A woman’s revenge strikes again!”
Advocaat stops the video and nods. “Yes, it’s impossible to tell if the person is a woman, but we’re assuming it’s a woman.”
“Can you see what type of car that is?” Ben asks.
Advocaat looks at his notes. “According to my file, Dolly owned a Toyota Sienna.”
Ben nods. “Callie didn’t do this.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s what I’m saying. That person is way too thin to be me.”
Ben ignores my outburst – again. “How tall are you, sweetheart?”
What does that have to do with anything? “Five feet five. Why?”
He points to the video. “Take a look at the vehicle. What do you notice about it?”
I shrug but take a closer look. “It’s an SUV.”
Ben nods. “And what is a characteristic of an SUV?”
“Technically an SUV is a large vehicle designed to be used on rough surfaces. In reality, the acronym is used to describe nearly any vehicle with all-wheel drive and raised ground clearance.” I’m not sure what knowing the definition of an SUV has to do with anything.
Anna jumps up. “Oh! I know. It’s tall!”
Ben grins at Anna. “Can you look up the height of a Toyota Sienna?”
Anna whips out her phone and starts tapping away. I start to ask what is going on, but Ben just holds up one finger indicating I should wait. “Sixty-eighty point nine inches.” More tapping. “That’s five feet seven and a half inches.”
Ben takes the remote from Advocaat and reverses until the person is standing next to the car. “What do you notice now?”
I gasp. How had I missed that? “She’s as tall as the car!”
Advocaat is furiously making notes in the file. I look to him and ask, “What now?”
He finishes his notes before looking up and answering. “I’ll contact the detectives and let him know of our findings.” He caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “I’m afraid they’re going to still consider you a suspect, though.” He shakes his head. “They have to be the most hard-headed detectives I’ve seen.”
My heart falls. This is beyond ridiculous. “So that’s it? There’s nothing we can do.”
Advocaat reaches into his dossier and pulls out a photocopy. “Actually, there is. I have a copy of the note you supposedly wrote. But my handwriting expert is backed up. He can’t get to it until end of next week.”
I start to yell about the unfairness of it all when I suddenly remember something. “Does it have to be a certain expert?”
Advocaat shakes his head. “No. As long as it’s someone recognized as an expert in the field.”
Ben moves to me. “What are you thinking?”
“Well,” I blush. “I met one of the forensic experts at the University at
one of Dean Jorgenson’s dinner events.” There are always tons of dinners to attend as the University is constantly trying to raise money for some research project.
“That’s great.” Ben smiles, and I squirm. “Why are you nervous?”
“Um. I kind of met him because he asked me out.” I feel my face heating up.
Ben scowls. “Set up an appointment with him, but I’m going with you.”
“Don’t forget about me!” Anna pipes up. As if that is even remotely possible.
Chapter 14
Stressed spelled backwards is desserts. Coincidence? I think not.
I call my colleague, Andy Tanner, as soon as it’s a respectable hour the next morning. He answers on the first ring. “This is Professor Tanner.”
I sure hope he remembers me. “Hi, Professor. This is Dr. Callie Muller. I don’t know if you remember me.” I take a deep breath and prepare myself to beg for help.
“Callie! Of course, I remember you.” His voice is friendly and warm. Maybe I won’t have to beg after all. “What a nasty business that murder is. I can’t believe they’re accusing you. I even heard a rumor that you were suspended.” It doesn’t matter that the students gone for summer break; the University is a hotbed of rumors.
“Actually that’s why I’m calling,” I start cautiously.
“What can I do to help?” I immediately switch gears from begging to asking a fellow colleague for a favor.
“It’s a bit complicated, but I think I’m being framed.” I clear my throat. “You see the victim was found with a note on her that I supposedly wrote, but I didn’t write it.”
“And you think I can take an expert look?”
“Would you?” My voice is pleading.
“Of course. Do you have the note?”
“I have a copy. Is that okay?”
He takes a moment to respond, and I start to get nervous. “Well,” he finally responds. “It won’t be admissible in court unless I have the original document, but it should be enough to clear you in the investigation.”
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