Firework Fiasco

by Kathi Daley

  “Alex is a great kid,” Aspen commented. “Someday she’ll make a wonderful mother after all the practice she’s had with the animals she fosters.”

  “I’m not ready to even think about Alex growing up and having children, but I agree she’ll be a wonderful mom someday. She’s very nurturing.” I handed Aspen our logbook. “Be sure to record everything you feed the cub into the log for the first few days. We want to keep an eye out for food sensitivities.”

  “Will do. By the way, how are things going with Nona?”

  I took a few minutes to tell Aspen the news. When I spoke about the man in the photo she was as shocked as everyone else had been.

  “You must have totally freaked out when you realized there was someone in the room with you the whole time,” Aspen said.

  “It was a bit of a shock.”

  “Do you think it was the killer?”

  I narrowed my gaze as I considered Aspen’s question. “It might have been, but it could have been someone else who’d broken in and was looking for something. I still haven’t figured out how the killer got the body out of the room with no one noticing. The motel is booked. It was well into the daylight hours when Nona found Elvis dead on the bed. I’ve gone over it again and again in my mind, and no matter how I work things out, there just doesn’t seem to be a reasonable explanation.”

  “What about interviewing the other eleven contestants? They’re all staying at the same motel where that Elvis was murdered. Someone has to have seen something.”

  “I’m sure Deputy Buckner will interview the other Elvises.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’ll talk to him,” Aspen pointed out. “Especially if they do know something and they’re worried that it could either get them killed or get someone they know in trouble.”

  Aspen might be right. I really did want to let Buckner handle this, but not only was he a deputy, he was a green deputy. I’d promised Zak I wouldn’t sleuth, but I didn’t think anyone could find fault with me showing up at the competition and chatting up the other contestants a bit.

  I helped Aspen clean the pens and dog runs, feed the animals, and process the current adoption applications, then decided to take a break and head over to the beach to see what was in store for the Elvises today. I knew they’d been introduced yesterday afternoon, and then there’d been a mini concert in which the contestants sang a song of their choice, but I wasn’t sure where things went from there.

  When I arrived at the beach the bandstand area was deserted. There was, however, a schedule posted on the wall. Tonight was the first elimination. Each Elvis would sing another song, then the judges would combine the scores from the two songs and eliminate the three Elvises with the lowest ones. I wondered if the fact that one Elvis had already left the competition would mean they’d only eliminate two Elvises tonight instead of three. I considered attending to find out, but I had guests coming for dinner, and I’d promised Zak I would stay out of things.

  Turning over a new leaf was harder than I’d imagined it would be. It wasn’t that I enjoyed putting myself in danger, but there was a part of me that found it extremely frustrating to be out of the loop, firmly planted on the sidelines.

  “Excuse me, miss.” A tall man with short dark hair, small eyes, and a pointy nose interrupted my pity party.

  “Can I help you with something?” I asked.

  “Are you associated with the competition?” he asked as he slowly looked me up and down in a manner I found to be uncomfortable.

  I wasn’t, but decided to fib to find out what was on his mind. “In a roundabout sort of way. Is there something you need?”

  “I understand one of the Elvises has dropped out. I work for the costume company and hoped to collect the costumes Elvis #3 rented. We can rent them out to someone else if he won’t be needing them.”

  “The Elvises rent their costumes? I figured they owned them.”

  “Some do, some don’t. Each Elvis is required to have five different costumes for the competition. Even those who have costumes of their own don’t necessarily have five.”

  “I’m surprised any costume shop would have so many Elvis costumes available in so many different sizes.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly. “We have a national presence. We brought costumes from all our locations to this event. So, about those costumes… Do you think I can grab them?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have access to the costumes. You’ll have to wait for one of the administrative personnel to show up.”

  He frowned but didn’t argue. I watched him walk away. Something felt off about this entire encounter. For one thing, I couldn’t believe these Elvis impersonators rented their costumes. It seemed to me if you impersonated Elvis as either a career or a hobby, you’d have your own outfits. For another, I had to wonder why a costume company with a “national presence,” as the man suggested this one had, would care about five costumes that most likely had been paid for for the entire event. Why would it be worth the effort to have someone come to collect them? If I had to guess there was, once again, more going on than met the eye.

  Chapter 6

  The man faded from view and I headed over to the board where the names and photos of the contestants were listed. I hoped if the man in my photo was another competitor I’d recognize him. I hadn’t seen his face, but he was a man of average height and build with thick, dark hair that had been cut fairly short.

  I eliminated each candidate based on those attributes alone. By the time I’d finished comparing the photos of the contestants to the one I’d taken, I was pretty sure he wasn’t another of the contestants.

  “Are you trying to choose a favorite?” asked a short woman with long red hair and rosy cheeks who both looked and smelled like strawberries who’d walking up beside me.

  “I’m just trying to refresh my memory after the show last night. Do you have a favorite?” I asked politely, although I really didn’t care.

  “I’ve been following the competition from the beginning and I’ve settled on a few favorites. Ray here,” she pointed to a man in the top row, third photo over, “seems to have the best stage presence, but he’s a dud to talk to in person. In other words, the guy can sing, but he has zero personality. Personally, I think he’d be a terrible spokesperson over all.”

  “So. You’ve spoken to each of these men?”

  The woman nodded. “I’ve made it a point to do so. In fact I know most of them quite well. Trent here,” the woman indicated a man with blond hair, a friendly smile, and nice eyes, “is such a sweetie. He has all the personality you could want but a very weak voice. If I was going to choose a man to date out of all the Elvises I’d pick him hands down, but I think he’d bomb on the stage.”

  “What about him?” I pointed to Elvis #3.

  “Calvin has the best costumes by far. Talk about bling. I should be so lucky to have even one dress as grand as his jackets.”

  “So he’s extravagant?”

  “In a sort of fun, sexy way. He has sparkly sequins and rhinestones on every costume in his wardrobe and I hear he has them custom made for each show he’s involved in.”

  “Which means he wouldn’t rent them?”

  She looked scandalized. “Lord no. Any decent Elvis impersonator has a closet full of costumes to meet any occasion. They all have pretty wonderful stuff, but there was something really special about Calvin and the way he really brought the bling. I was sorry to hear he dropped out. I saw him in Vegas a couple of times and he was awesome.”

  “He’d performed before?’

  “Sure. Lots of times. He was a pro until a couple of years ago, when he sort of disappeared. I heard he’d taken his impersonator gig on the road. I’ve only seen him impersonate Elvis, but I understand he has other acts as well. I heard he even had a gig in Europe for a while. I was thrilled to hear he was back in the United States, but then he goes and drops out just like that.”

  “With Calvin out of the running who’s your choice?” I
found I was curious now.

  “Big Ben.” She pointed to a broad-shouldered man with blond hair. “I know he doesn’t look anything like the King, but once he’s all made up he’s passible. And his voice! Well, you know what I’m talking about if you caught the show last night. The man sings like an angel. And he’s an all-around nice guy. He could use some work on his dance moves, but overall, I think he’d be the best bet. At least in my opinion. I guess everyone sees something slightly different in each of them. Or maybe they make us see something different. What they do, after all, is all about the illusion.”

  I supposed that at least was true. Everything that had happened in the past two days seemed like an illusion, if you asked me.

  “I guess you’re here for the weekend?” I asked.

  She sighed. “I wish. I only stopped off on my way to my sister’s. I’d put her off, but you know how it is with family.”

  “I do,” I agreed.

  After she walked away I headed back to my car, thinking about the possibility of everything being an illusion. Could everything that had happened since Elvis #3 had approached Nona in the bar been staged? I couldn’t imagine why, but at this point it was the only thing that made even a little bit of sense. On a whim, I took out my phone and called Deputy Buckner.

  “Ms. Zimmerman, how can I help you?” he asked.

  “The blue jacket Elvis #3 was wearing when he was killed, and Walton Welsh was wearing when his body was found. Do you have it?”

  “I sent it to the crime lab. Why do you ask?”

  “I have this feeling there’s something odd going on with Elvis’s costumes.”

  “Odd how?”

  I explained about the man who’d claimed to be from the costume company, and the woman who was certain each Elvis had a closetful of costumes custom made for him. “I was curious whether the blue jacket was rented or owned. If it’s rented it should have a tag from the company inside.”

  “Does it really matter?” the deputy asked.

  “It might.”

  I listened as he let out a sigh. “Give me one good reason why knowing if the costume was rented or owned is important and I’ll find out.”

  “If his costumes weren’t rented it makes me wonder why the man I spoke to wanted them. Perhaps one of the costumes is the key. Maybe Elvis #3 had something sewn into the lining before he died.”

  I thought I heard him chuckle. “Well done. You managed to provide me with the one logical reason I asked for, so I’ll have the jacket searched. I’ll text you when I have something.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “You’re much nicer than Nona made it sound.”

  “Try driving a Harley down Main Street at double the speed limit and you’ll find out how not nice I can be.”

  “Good to know. Before I hang up, do you have any other updates? I’ll admit it’s been hard for me to sit this one out.”

  “I can imagine,” he drawled. “I called Sheriff Salinger and he filled me in on the Zoe Donovan-Zimmerman sleuthing team.”

  “The retired Zoe Donovan-Zimmerman sleuthing team,” I countered. “I have a baby to take care of now. But still, with Nona involved, I’m finding I have the situation on my mind more than I ought to.”

  “I’m sure it’s hard to change gears after all this time,” he offered. “And while I have a few irons in the fire, I don’t have anything I’ve been able to confirm yet. I might have news by the time I hear back about the jacket. I’ll text you. And Zoe…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Salinger said he’d have my badge and my head if I let anything happen to you, so please, no sleuthing on your own.”

  “Don’t worry. Like I’ve said, my sleuthing days are behind me.”

  When I’d been at the beach earlier I’d noticed the Elvises all planned to attend a cocktail mixer at Dirk Pendleton’s home so his investors had the opportunity to meet the competitors. Or at least that was the supposed reason; having tagged along with Zak to similar events as a potential investor, this reception was probably more about Pendleton having the opportunity to raise additional funds. A few days in beautiful Ashton Falls was probably as much a motivator as many of Dirk’s rich friends needed.

  I wasn’t an investor or a competitor, but I had the feeling if Zak asked Dirk he’d allow us to drop by and mingle with the group for an hour or so. We had the BBQ that evening, but Levi and Ellie weren’t coming over until seven-thirty and the mixer was scheduled between four-thirty and six-thirty. The competition started at eight and the competitors had to check in at the beach at seven. I was sure Alex would be happy to watch Catherine while we were out, so I called Zak and ran the idea past him. I thought he’d just remind me that I was a retired sleuth and so had no reason to request an invite, but much to my surprise, he agreed the cocktail party was a good opportunity to chat casually with the eleven men who were the most likely to have some insight into what was going on. Once he confirmed we were good to go, I headed back to the Zoo to check in with Aspen, then went home to get ready for mixer.

  ******

  Dirk Pendleton lived in a mansion right on the beach. The reception was being held on his huge deck, which I didn’t think was quite as lovely as ours, though it had an excellent view and was only a short stroll down a paved walkway to the water. I’d worn a short dress with strappy heels that was appropriate yet left me yearning for shorts and flip-flops. Zak wore a dress shirt and pants, and we each nursed a flute of champagne.

  “Let’s split up,” I suggested after we’d been greeted by Dirk, who took advantage of our presence to launch into his spiel about what a fantastic investment opportunity his casino was. Zak listened politely and asked all the right questions, but I doubted he’d end up investing.

  “Okay. I’ll start on the right side and you take the left. Be careful about what you ask. We want to find out what we can about Elvis #3, but we don’t want to tip anyone off that it’s our real purpose for being here. If Elvis was murdered it’s very likely the killer could be one of the other impersonators.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it light and casual. Let’s plan to meet in about forty-five minutes. We can compare notes and take it from there.”

  I went directly to the man the woman I’d spoken to earlier had identified as the nicest of the Elvises, Trent Pinedale, who was listed as Elvis #4. He had a nice smile and seemed happy and relaxed. I’d noticed some of the other competitors were all business, with a clear plan of action in mind to further their own popularity, but Trent appeared to actually be having a good time. Of course, all the competitors were drinking sparkling water rather than champagne, which made perfect sense because they had tonight’s performance to consider.

  “Trent Pinewood, I’m Zoe Zimmerman.” I held out my hand in greeting.

  “I’m happy to meet you. I saw you come in, but I didn’t remember seeing your name on the guest list, so I wasn’t able to put a name with the face.”

  I smiled. “Between you and me, my husband and I weren’t on the guest list. We’re almost what you’d call last-minute crashers.”

  Trent laughed. “Good for you. Gotta love a party crasher. I assume you live here in Ashton Falls?”

  “We do.”

  “It’s a beautiful place. All those green mountains cradling that beautiful blue lake. Do you work in the tourism industry?”

  I shook my head. “Zak is a software developer and I own an animal rescue and rehabilitation center. How about you? Do you have a career other than being an Elvis?”

  He took a sip of his water. “I’m a podiatrist.”

  I raised a brow. “A podiatrist?”

  The man shrugged. “I like feet.”

  “How does it work, being a doctor and an Elvis impersonator? I can see being a bartender and an impersonator, or even a salesman and an impersonator, but a doctor?”

  “Being a podiatrist is what I do for a living. Being an impersonator is what I do for fun. It’s just like any other hobby. I plan my weekends and my vacations around the
conventions and events I attend.”

  “But Dirk is looking for a full-time spokesperson. If you win do you plan to give up being a doctor?”

  He chuckled in a deep, hearty manner. “If you’re asking that question I’m going to assume you didn’t attend last night’s show.”

  I shrugged.

  “I’m not going to win,” he said. “I probably have the weakest voice in the competition. I’m just here for the fun it. The competition will wrap up on Sunday and I’ll return to my real life on Monday.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “I like your attitude. I suppose that explains why you seem to be the most relaxed of all the competitors.” I leaned in slightly. “Care to make a guess who’ll win?”

  Trent leaned in even closer. “Adam Weston, Elvis #12, is favored to win at this point. He has a strong voice, killer dance moves, and the most experience of any of the impersonators, with the possible exception of Calvin Jobs, Elvis #3. I know he’s the favorite of both Dirk and the fans, but if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on Elvis #2. His name is Jason Michaels. He’s a bit older than Adam and not quite as well known, but he has the look, the walk, and the talk of the real Elvis. If you have the chance to meet him, you’ll see what I mean. When he’s made up it’s like talking to a ghost.”

  “I’ll have to make a point of talking to him before I go.” I took a sip of my champagne and tried for a totally nonchalant expression. “You mentioned Elvis #3, the one who dropped out, had the most experience of anyone, yet when I spoke to Dirk yesterday he said he thought he dropped out of the competition because he got cold feet.”

  Trent laughed. “There’s no way Calvin had cold feet. The guy is a pro and has been doing this sort of thing for a long time. He even did some stuff overseas. In fact, over the past two years he’s been going back and forth between Europe and the United States quite a bit. I think there might have been a woman involved in his sudden fascination with foreign gigs, but I don’t know that for certain. What I do know is that he definitely didn’t go into insurance after quitting Vegas like everyone says.”