Scent to Her Grave

by Ink, India

  “So Colleen just lucked out. She would never have won the crown, no matter how beautiful she was.” That was news, and my guess was that Colleen didn’t have a clue in the world that she was assuming the title by a stroke of good fortune. Bad fortune, if you looked at it from Lydia’s perspective.

  Nadia laughed. “I’ll tell you this. That girl won’t last longer than a couple of months. They’ll run her so ragged she’ll beg to be let out of the contract and then Radiance will sue her for the rest of the money, and they’ll start searching for a new face. This has been a disaster. The new China Veils line was originally supposed to come out next month, but one thing after another has happened. Now they’ve lost their model and this is going to set them back again. We’ve had so many people asking for it, and they told us to lie and say that it’s almost ready. I’m fed up. They expect us to spend all our money to look as good as we can but will they reimburse us for anything?”

  As she shifted the conversation, I agreeably went along. “I hear you—a few years ago I was doing pretty much what you’re doing. I couldn’t wait to get out that door every evening.”

  “I bet you have fun working at Venus Envy,” she said.

  “Yeah, drop in some time and I’ll blend you up a custom fragrance. No charge, in fact—as a thank you for talking to me.”

  She beamed at me then, a genuine smile. “Hey, I remember something else about Lydia!”

  “What?”

  Nadia lowered her voice. “She was here a month or so ago, I think it was. I don’t know what she was doing—some bigwig from HQ was here talking to her. Her cell phone rang and she moved aside to answer, but I could still hear her. She got into an argument with whoever it was, and then I heard her say, ‘You do that and we’re both in deep shit. Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, Jin, or I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the pigs.’ Who do you suppose she was talking about?”

  I stared at the counter, thoughts churning in my head. Who indeed? But the name sounded odd.

  “Jin? Are you sure it was Jin and not Jim?” Could he be Lydia’s boyfriend?

  “No, it was Jin all right, because I remember thinking how unusual it was.” She nodded emphatically.

  Hmm. Had Lydia been trying to protect Trevor because this guy had threatened him? Or was Jin somebody else, somebody we hadn’t figured into our equation yet? After a quick thank you, and a purchase of two tubes of lipstick that I really didn’t need, I headed out the door toward Starbucks. If Lydia had been trying to protect Trevor, then we might be in more danger than I thought and would have to tread very lightly at the club.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “If it was Trevor she was talking about, maybe he was in danger and Lydia was trying to protect him. That could be why she was killed. By framing Trev, the murderer took care of both problems at once.” Barbara slipped her iced triple caramel macchiato into the cup holder, then reached down and pulled off her shoes, changing back into her stilettos.

  “Good thinking, Sherlock.” I grinned at her. “But we still have to figure out who Jin is.”

  Barb shrugged, taking a long sip from her whipped-cream-topped drink. I eyed the cup and shook my head. I loved my tea, would tolerate coffee upon occasion, but the sweet drinks were a bit too much for me unless it was a milk shake or fruit juice.

  “I don’t know . . . it’s too easy,” I said. “But then, murder isn’t always rocket science and crimes of passion are seldom thought out very well. At least we have a name to go on.”

  “Speaking of gin, I could go for a nice martini right now,” Barb said.

  “Yeah, I want a drink, too,” I said. “It’s been awhile since I cut loose.”

  Right about then, a stupid driver swerved in front of me, blabbing away on his cell phone. I honked and yanked my attention back to the road.

  “Idiot! What the hell was he thinking?” Barb glared out the window at him. “Jeez, it’s just not safe on the road anymore.”

  “I know. I wish they’d outlaw talking on those damned things while driving. It’s dangerous.” I shifted gears and we headed up a hill.

  Barb nodded. “Anyway, regarding Jin. Could he be your man with hidden secrets that Bran was talking about?”

  I shrugged as we topped the hill, and flipped on my right turn signal, pausing at the light to make sure the way was clear. “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out, I hope.”

  “You like Bran, don’t you?” Barbara grinned. “I think somebody’s got a crush!”

  I blushed. “Hey, he’s better than a good share of the men I’ve met in my life. And he likes to climb—that’s always a plus by me.”

  “And he’s handsome and tall and—”

  “Oh, stop it!” I said, laughing. “Now you sound like a school girl.” I flashed her a smile. “You know, Auntie always did have a knack for picking odd friends. No wonder she and Bran crossed paths.”

  “When do we hit the club? It’s seven o’clock now.”

  I calculated the distance to the Blue Dragon and factored in the inevitable gridlock and traffic jams. “Let’s stop for a leisurely dinner before we head over there. The bar at the Blue Dragon opens at nine, the shows don’t get going till later.” I pulled into the parking lot next to Coco’s Restaurant.

  As Barb opened the door, she flashed me a quick grin. “Why do I feel like I’m headed to my last supper?”

  I winced. “Don’t even say that.” But I was thinking the same thing.

  The area where the Blue Dragon was located was in the south side of Seattle, near Beacon Hill and Rainier Valley. Long known for their ethnic diversity, the two neighborhoods had also managed to achieve the reputation for being the gang-filled, crime-ridden seedier side to the Emerald City. But while south Seattle wasn’t free of problems and both poverty and crime abounded, the area wasn’t quite as bad as the media liked to portray it.

  I turned onto Northwest Navarro Street and eased my way down the pothole-laden road. The buildings here were gloomy—dark and dirty, more like huge metal warehouses rather than inviting businesses. Industry was the name of the game in this part of Seattle, and only a few miles away stood the massive Boeing complex where lumbering airships made their way down the assembly line. Unfortunately, Boeing had cut back drastically in the past few years, and unemployment rose as the company had laid off tens of thousands of workers. Tempers flared toward the aerospace giant in this part of the world.

  Up ahead stood a tall building—old brick that looked like a brownstone converted into a commercial space. Flashing neon blue, a sign in one of the first-floor windows read: The Blue Dragon. The “O” had burnt out, and it made it look all the more uninviting. I eased my Sebring into a parking lot in back of the building. Dimly lit, it was probably a third of the way full and I found myself wishing for the first time since I’d bought the car that I had chosen a less conspicuous vehicle.

  “Lock it up good. I’ll put on the Club.” I hauled out the antitheft device and fit it through the steering wheel. I locked it into place, slid the chain—on which I kept on the keys—around my neck. “Let’s just hope we don’t have to beat a hasty retreat.”

  Barb gave me a knowing look. “I was just thinking the same thing. So, are you ready? I promise, I’ll let you take the lead.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “By the way, don’t drink anything unless the bartender pours it and gives the glass directly to you. A lot of Ecstasy floating around, a lot of roofies and other date-rape crap out there.”

  She shivered and followed me as we hurried to the door, wincing against the biting wind that had sprung up. A bouncer—tall, dark, Asian, and gorgeous—was leaning next to the door. He gave us the once-over, then nodded us in.

  I leaned close to Barb as we entered the club. “They only start keeping track of who they let in after midnight, when the real players come out of the woodwork. Until then, it’s pretty much like any other lounge. Now stick with me and don’t gawk.”

  She poked me in the ribs, grinning. �
��You really do think I’m lame, don’t you? Hon, I was club hopping by the time I was fifteen. I know the ropes, even though I am over the hill.”

  “Um hmm . . . I know that. I just don’t want your blood on my hands, because if anything happens to you, I’ll have to answer to Dorian and he would not let me see the light of another day, no matter how strong I am.”

  The door opened into a large room with a bar running along the left side, a cluster of tables in one section, booths against the back wall, and a small but well-defined stage. The walls were black, and the colored lights bouncing off the walls gave me the feeling I’d just entered the world of film noir. A few tables were taken, and several seats at the bar were full, but we appeared to be among the early wave of patrons.

  I glanced around the room, looking for potential exits. A discreet sign pointed out the way to the restrooms down a hall, and I noticed several unmarked doors scattered around the room. I peeked down the hall and saw an emergency exit door at the end, just past the ladies’ room.

  Motioning for Barbara to join me, I headed to the bar and took a seat. The bartender gave us a long once-over. He wasn’t smiling. He finished wiping up the counter where he was working and then said, “What will it be, girls?”

  “I’ll have a Bermuda Rum Swizzle,” I said, hoping they’d use authentic Falernum instead of grenadine. Some people couldn’t taste the difference but I could, and I could peg it on the first sip if the bar was using a nonalcoholic version of the syrup. A side effect of my heightened sense of smell was a heightened ability to taste, which could be good or bad depending on the food.

  Barb cleared her throat. “A Cosmopolitan, please.”

  As he mixed up our drinks, I took a closer look at our fellow barflies. Men, women, a few whose genders were hard to identify. The light was dim, the walls dark, and those who seemed familiar with the place wore an attitude of “don’t intrude, don’t bother us, you don’t belong here.” The music was loud, but not overpowering, and seemed to run to the techno-dance music I hated. I loved good techno-pop, but some of the stuff trying to pass for it now was ear-splitting. Nobody was dancing yet, and it seemed like a good time to have a look around and see if I could locate Jin.

  “I’ll be back, I’m going to work the room and see if I can find out anything.”

  The room was sparsely filled at this point, mainly with a few lounge lizards scouting the bar for conquests. One of them swept his gaze over me and pushed himself off his bar stool. Oh great. Just what I needed.

  He sauntered up to me, drink in hand, and I could see his comb-over wasn’t doing its job. “Hey baby, you must wash your clothes in Windex because I can see myself in your pants.”

  Like I hadn’t heard that one before. “Back off, or you’ll know what it’s like to have your balls used for batting practice.” I shouldered past him and, disgruntled, he returned to the bar.

  I headed toward a bank of vending machines that stood near a booth that had five people—four men and a woman—sitting in it. As I dug through my purse for change, I listened in on their conversation.

  “So I’m like, ‘What do you mean, I gotta pay full price?’ And he’s like, ‘Honey, even if you was my granma, you’d be paying full price’. . . it sucks. I can’t believe that he won’t cut me a deal. Jus’ like I’m not a regular customer —”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the men glancing at me. I studiously ignored them, studying the array of candy bars available. As I plugged my change into the machine and waited for the Snickers bar to drop, I pulled out my cell phone and pretended to punch in numbers.

  I counted to five and then said, “Donna? Is that you? Lee Ann said you wanted to talk to me. Whassup?” As I listened to the nonexistent voice on the other end of the line, I kept one ear cocked toward the booth. They must have decided that I wasn’t a threat, because as soon as I settled into my “phone call,” they started talking again, though at a bit lower volume.

  “Anyway, tonight I’m gonna tell him that either he starts cutting me deals or I’ll find a new source. He isn’t the only game in town, even if he’s the cutest.”

  One of the guys snorted. “Cute? Don’t even think about it. He’ll take your money and break your heart, and probably give you something skanky while he’s at it. Now, if you want a real man, well baby, you just have to say the word.”

  She giggled and scooted out of the booth. “Potty break. ’Scuse me boys, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  I counted to the beat of four after she headed into the bathroom, said a quick thanks and goodbye to the silent phone, and casually wandered after her, eating my Snickers. I wasn’t sure she was talking about Jin, but it sounded promising. Of course, if I was wrong, I’d look like an idiot, but I’d never let that stop me before.

  The bathroom was brightly lit in comparison to the rest of the club, and had a mirror that ran the entire side of one wall. There were three regular stalls, a handicapped stall, and a vanity below the mirror with four sinks. Pale pink roses in bud vases stood between the wash basins and, all in all, it was cleaner than I expected.

  I waited until the girl was in one of the stalls and went into my act.

  “Damn it!” I noisily searched through my purse. As she opened the door and started to wash her hands, I upended my purse on the counter. “Jeez, I hate it when I forget things.” I gave her a quick grin and shrugged my shoulders to include her in the conversation.

  She snickered. “I know, my purse is like a black hole. What are you looking for? Do you need a . . . you know . . . if you started, I’ve got a spare.” She held up a tampon.

  “Thanks, but no, that’s not what I need.” I glanced around the room, making sure we were alone, and prayed she wasn’t a cop. “Actually, I forgot something at home, you know. I was hoping to have fun tonight, but I guess I left the damned baggie on the counter.”

  The girl, who I could tell was about nineteen or twenty, gave me a long look, her eyes narrow but not suspicious. She looked high already; her pupils were dilated and there was a bead of moisture on her upper lip. After a second’s hesitation, she shrugged and seemed to decide I was harmless.

  “Don’t worry, there’s always somebody around who can fix you up. Just wait for a little while.” She gave me a big smile and held out her hand. “I’m Mandy.”

  I took her hand. “Hi, I’m . . . Rose. And thanks. I’m so stupid, but maybe I’ll get lucky. Say, do you know if Jin will be in tonight? If he is, then . . .” I stopped in mid-sentence, letting her fill in the blanks.

  She picked at her teeth in the mirror and pulled out her lipstick, a fuchsia so bright it made me wince. Mandy would look a lot better in a coffee color or a neutral, with her two-toned hair and fake tan.

  “Jin? He’d better be, he’s scheduled to go on for his first show at ten-thirty and there will be a lot of disappointed ladies by then if he doesn’t. He does three shows a night on weekends.”

  Disappointed ladies? What the—?

  “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” I decided to play along. Too many questions and she might get suspicious.

  She shook her hair, decided that she looked fine, and headed toward the door. “Well, he is the best dancer they have.” She giggled, then whispered, “He’s also got a great . . . you know! I just wish he’d use it on me!” With another giggle, she headed out of the bathroom, leaving me open-mouthed.

  Barbara was looking bored when I returned to my bar stool but good to her word, she’d nursed her drink, downed a handful of peanuts, and kept her eyes open. I glanced over at the booth. Mandy had three glasses in front of her, it looked like she was drinking tequila sunrises. Her friends were scarfing down buffalo wings and some sort of pizza.

  In whispered tones, I filled Barb in on what I’d learned. “So it seems that Jin’s a dancer, and he goes on at ten-thirty. Oh, and apparently he’s hung like a horse, according to Mandy-girl over there.”

  Barb snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

  I orde
red another round of drinks and a plate of nachos to keep the booze from hitting us too hard. “Nurse it slow, we want to be able to drive after this.”

  The bar began to fill up; a number of women started filtering into the club, young and old alike, but all of them dressed like they belonged here. A few drag queens sauntered in with the crowd. I had the feeling we’d managed to hit ladies’ night at the Blue Dragon.

  At that moment, a swarthy-looking man sauntered up. He gave us a little bow and said, “Madam, would you dance with me?” in a Russian accent as he held out his hand to Barb. Probably fresh off one of the barges in port.

  She coughed, and I pushed her out of her seat. “Go dance, have fun, I’m fine here.” With a look that said she was going to kill me as soon as we were alone, she took the sailor’s hand and sashayed out on the dance floor, which had picked up in action. Forty-one-year-old baker or not, she gave the rest of the dancers a run for their money, whirling with such grace that for once, I envied her petite nature. I could dance, but that woman could shimmy.