by Norma Lehr
Abby nodded wistfully. “Call me old fashioned, but if I’m going to write a mystery, I prefer to be inspired by the queen.”
Renee looked up as she took another bite. “You’re serious? You’re already so busy with the shop and all the classes you take, when are you going to find time to write?”
“I’ve already started. First chapter is on the computer.”
Renee wiped the mustard from her chin with a paper napkin. “Get out of here! You didn’t tell me.”
Abby slouched back against the redwood bench. “Don’t broadcast it, okay? If I talk about writing, I won’t do it.”
Renee nodded. “They won’t hear it from me.” She wrapped the remainder of her curly fries in a napkin and girdled her stomach with both hands. “That’s the first real food I’ve had for a week. You’re lucky you don’t have to watch it so closely.”
Abby pushed her paper plate aside with most of the salad still intact. “After what’s happened, I really don’t have much of an appetite. When it all catches up with me, I’ll probably go on a Krispy Kreme binge.”
The waitress returned and handed Renee a large plastic cup of Coke. Renee immediately washed down the remains of her burger.
The girl hesitated, squinted, then held up a color picture. “Someone left this on my tray under a five dollar bill. It’s a picture of you two ladies out here in the sun.”
Renee’s mouth dropped open. “Here, gimme.” She grabbed the photo. “Sorry. That was rude of me, but I’m on edge.” She gave the girl a quick nod. “Too complicated to explain. I’ll make it up with a healthy tip.”
“What-ev-er, but the fiver covers it.” The girl turned to leave. “Strange, huh? The picture, I mean. I wish I’d seen who left it.” She hurried up the walkway and disappeared inside the restaurant.
Renee joined Abby on her side of the table and plopped down on the redwood bench. “See? I knew it.” She turned the picture over and gasped. “Lord, look!”
A printed message in heavy black pen:
TAP TAP TAP! ENJOY LUNCH, LADIES—I’LL GET A HOLD OF YOU LATER.
Abby started shivering and wrapped her arms tightly about her. This note … a greeting or warning? She jumped up, left a twenty on the table, gathered her purse and sweater, and motioned for Renee to follow her as she headed toward the packed earth parking area beneath towering dark pines. Abby began checking out the three other empty vehicles in search of camera equipment. First, she peered in the cab of a black Ford pickup, and next she checked out the front and backseats of a beige Corolla and a gray Honda.
While Abby made her inspection, Renee walked the short path to the highway and scanned the area. At one point, she turned, caught Abby’s eye, and shook her head glumly. On her way back, she stopped inside the restaurant. Abby assumed it was to question other waitresses and the bartender about whether they’d seen the photo drop-off.
Renee met Abby as she walked out the door. She shook her head. “No one saw anything. Come on. Let’s find Deputy Eckles.”
They drove two more miles headed east toward Crystal Bay before Abby pulled into the parking lot of a modest frame building painted gray. Inside, the sheriff’s office was secured behind a long, high desk with a glass partition. When Abby asked to see Deputy Eckles, the receptionist turned from her computer and narrowed her eyes. “This is regarding what?”
Abby briefly explained that they were friends of the both of the deceased. She never mentioned the word ‘murder,’ figuring the less said the better. The receptionist turned back to her computer, and Abby stretched to see over the counter as she tapped in Melanie and Dana’s names. Abby immediately dropped back on her heels when the woman turned around. “Deputy Eckles is unavailable, but Detective Fromer will see you.” She pressed a buzzer and a door opened automatically.
Abby gave Renee a little nudge, and Renee followed her in.
Detective Fromer, a tall, burly guy in his late forties, stood behind his desk in the small, windowless space. A rotating fan whirred noisily behind him on the filing cabinet, ruffling his thinning brown hair. His blue knit shirt set off his darker blue eyes. Abby introduced herself and Renee, explaining their relationship to the deceased dancers, and stretched out her hand. His firm handshake felt reassuring. “The investigation into the death of your friends has been turned over to me,” he said, adding with genuine sympathy, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Renee, who had been quiet until now, reached for his hand next. “I’m Renee.” She spoke with a lilt Abby recognized all too well. Whenever Renee met a man she found attractive, she slipped into girlish mode. “We’re staying at the Cal Neva Resort,” she said with a hint of a smile. “We’re former Toppettes. We came here to perform in the Celebrity Room this weekend, but I guess that’s out.”
The detective wiggled his hand free and indicated two metal chairs with well-worn padding. “Have a seat. I know where you’re staying.” He remained standing, reached for a manila folder in a wire basket, and opened it. He scanned the first page. “After I’ve reviewed the facts and the transcripts of the interviews conducted by Deputy Eckles, I’ll drive over to Crystal Bay, and we’ll all have a talk at the hotel.” He closed the file, sat, and leaned back in his chair. “Now, is there a specific reason you ladies dropped by?”
Abby spoke up. “I realize it’s too early for a report on our friend, Dana, but Deputy Eckles mentioned that the medical examiner’s report on Melanie Mars should be on his desk today. We’re anxious to know what happened to her.”
Fromer stood and opened the filing cabinet. “She was poisoned.”
Abby’s voice trembled. “Suicide?”
“We’re treating it as a homicide. We’ll be conducting several more interviews.” He turned and looked down at them. “Your other friend, Dana, was also a homicide victim. Severe blunt trauma to the back of the head. After she was hit, she was dragged across the sand into the water. We figure the plan was to drag her deeper into the lake, but the killer was interrupted.”
Abby paled. “You think the murderer was still around when I got there?”
“That’s a possibility. They could have been hiding under the dock while you were trying to revive her.”
Abby stood and pulled Renee up with her. “Good Lord!” She held her hand to her chest and felt her heart thump double time. “You mean he could have been watching me?”
“We don’t know that the killer was a he.”
“Right,” Abby nodded.
Renee nudged her hard. Abby winced. Renee spoke through clenched teeth. “Show him the picture.” Without waiting, she reached into Abby’s purse and pulled out the photo. “We don’t know if the photographer was a ‘she’ or a ‘he’ either, but whoever it was left this for us while we were eating lunch at Tammy’s Burger Spa.” As she explained about the person in the brown ball cap and dark glasses, she thrust the picture with the message on the back at the detective.
He studied her face as he took it. After he read the brief note jotted in heavy black pen, he glanced at each of them in turn and tapped the photo thoughtfully. “What do you think this means?’ He looked at Renee. “Obviously, you’re upset.”
Renee crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Of course we’re upset!” She looked at Abby for confirmation. “Don’t you think that, in light of what’s been happening, this is extremely strange?”
Two more finger taps on the color photo. “Miss Rollins, is it possible a fan of the Toppettes recognized you both and snapped a couple of pictures to take home? Perhaps out of courtesy he or she left one for you.”
Abby took a deep breath. “I’d like to think that’s the case, but like Renee says, two of our dance mates have been killed—murdered, and we’re scared, damn it! It doesn’t take much that is out of the ordinary for us to twist it into something sinister. You’ve gotta understand where we’re coming from.”
Renee nodded in vigorous agreement.
An ominous silence fell over the small room before Abby asked in a soft voi
ce, “So … how was Melanie poisoned? Do you have a suspect? Or suspects?”
“We’re still sorting that out.” He closed the folder and sat on the edge of his desk. “Right now everyone’s a suspect. Until we make an arrest, watch your backs. Try not to be alone. Can you two bunk up together?”
Renee sniffed. “We already share a chalet. What if the murderer comes after both of us at once?”
“If you think you’d feel safer, get a room together in the hotel tower. Get out of that secluded chalet. It’s possible—though not likely—that someone could use the old tunnel under the casino that leads to those chalets to get to you. They built it during the Prohibition. It’s been blocked off for years. Anyone trying to use it would risk falling through the wood floor. Still, you’d be safer in the tower.” He began ushering them toward the door. “As I said, I’ll be over there in about an hour to conduct more interviews and check out the scene. Just watch your backs. And warn the other two dancers to keep tabs on each other.”
Renee shuddered as she climbed into the front seat of Blade’s car. “This is too creepy. I get the feeling that that handsome detective thinks we’re in real danger.”
“My guess is that he just wants us to be careful. So what do you think? Should we move over to the tower? I’m willing to stay in the chalet if you are.” She glanced over at her friend. “I’d like to check out this tunnel Fromer mentioned. There might be an entrance from our place. It’s for sure Melanie and Dana weren’t in their chalets when they were killed, but the tunnel may hold a clue. Besides, if some maniac is on the loose and the killer’s after us, a tower door on the eighth floor won’t stop him—or her.”
Renee unwrapped her fries from the Burger Spa and began nibbling nervously. “How do you think Melanie got poisoned? Do you think one of the dancers did it? At first I thought maybe Dana, for the money, you know. Especially after Melanie told her she made her beneficiary. But she’s dead now. Murdered.” Renee shivered and kept on nibbling.
Abby leaned against the inside of the car door while she carefully removed the tissues from her pocket. “I broke into Melanie’s last night and found these.” She passed them to Renee as she pulled out onto the highway headed east. “I’d planned on asking Dana about the cigarette this morning. Now it’s too late. That tea label might be important.”
Renee chuckled. “So that’s what you were doing in your black togs—tampering with Deputy Eckles’ evidence.” She placed the crinkled paper in her palm and smoothed it with her fingers. “This is from Blythe. It has the Double H logo.” She held it close to her eyes. “It’s not the lullaby mix. I can barely make it out. Looks like ‘mel’-something.”
“So perhaps,” Abby said, “Blythe made a special concoction for Melanie. She could have brought it to her that night with instructions to take it the next morning. A dose of poison. Why? How could she be sure Melanie would drink it?
“Gail had her protein drinks ready for us before rehearsal. The poison might have been slipped into Melanie’s berry mix. Remember, Melanie was vomiting pink frothy stuff when she died.”
Renee gave a labored sigh. “What would be in it for Gail? Commit a murder to have center stage? Not likely.”
Abby started the car but then turned off the ignition. She leaned against the door. “Listen. I don’t think you should mention Tom Moran when the detective talks to you. He’s going to be asking each of us a lot of questions, and if he finds out you hated Melanie, as you’ve often said, you could end up at the top of his suspect list.”
Renee looked stunned. “Me?” She dramatically pressed her chest. “Sure, I hated her once, but that changed when she was killed.”
Abby nodded. “Do you hear yourself? Do you realize how incriminating that sounds?”
Renee flushed. “Good grief, you’re right. What’ll I do?” She straightened in her seat. “Fromer’s not going to suspect me. I don’t have any poison, and I wouldn’t know how to use it if I did. And, wouldn’t I look guiltier if I didn’t mention it and Gail or Blythe did?”
“Well, just be careful. Detective Fromer might be a resort town cop, but he has shrewd eyes. If I were you, I wouldn’t offer any information about the past regarding you, Melanie, or Tom.”
During the drive into Crystal Bay, Renee remained silent and gazed out the passenger window.
As they neared the entrance to the Cal Neva, Abby spoke up. “Before the detective gets here and if Blythe and Gail are back, I’m going to try to ask them a few questions to see if I can eliminate them as suspects. I bet there’s a good reason why Blythe’s tea was in Melanie’s room. And, even if Gail wanted to kill Melanie, she wouldn’t have been so obvious as to poison her own concoction.” When they entered the long driveway to the hotel, she leaned forward in her seat. “Renee, look! Two vans are parked out in front. The media has arrived, and there’s Jan, talking to a reporter.”
Chapter 8
Abby stepped on the brake, turned her head, and backed up. “Whoa. This isn’t going to work. Let’s drop Blade’s car back at the Biltmore and stay over there until things at the Cal Neva cool down. I don’t want to be involved in the brou-ha-ha. Let Jan handle it.”
Renee scanned the parking area. “I don’t see my car. Guess Gail and Blythe are still gone. I don’t know.” She sounded disappointed. “It might be kind of exciting being on camera. We could watch ourselves on TV tonight.”
Abby stopped the car. “You go. I don’t want to be interviewed. Anything I have to say will be said to Detective Fromer. Besides, I don’t care for the way the media dramatizes—”
“Yeah, well,” Renee broke in as she opened the door with a flourish., “this is murder. Two of them. What should they do? Downplay it? It’s not fair to leave everything up to Jan. I feel like helping.”
“Okay. No need to get bent out of shape. I’m sorry if I ruffled your feathers.”
Renee gave a reluctant smile and pulled down the visor to look in the mirror. “Guess I’m on edge, and speaking of feathers ... Ever seen a windblown chicken?” She finger-fluffed her hair before stepping out. “Since you’re the one who found Dana, they probably want to interview you. Well, here goes. Hope I don’t say anything to incriminate myself.”
“Better not,” Abby warned. “Come over to the Biltmore when you’re through. After I park this baby, I’m going to call my kids and let them know what’s going on before they see it on Channel Ten. If Blade’s back from his run, I need to talk to him. I’d like to know what went on with the deputy in the Indian Room and what he was doing down at the bay this morning.”
“I run early every morning,” Blade said, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. How could a sweaty man look that good? He had entered the lobby from the exercise room just as Abby walked in. “The desk clerk here suggested that route. Why? Do you think I might be the killer? The deputy’s questions on the beach led me to believe that I was at the top of his list of suspects, but I explained I had been a cop. Always helps. And by now he’s had a chance to make a few calls to double-check. He made it very clear, however, that my help is not needed on this case.
“Hey, how did my Blue Baby run? I don’t let just anybody behind that wheel.”
Abby grinned. “Great! We ran your car over to Truckee and back via the hospital and the sheriff’s office.” She gave a forced laugh. “I never for a moment thought you were the killer. Did I miss something? Some reason to suspect you?”
Blade grew serious. “No reason.” He held Abby’s gaze. “Not now, but later, I have some information about Dana that you might find interesting. In fact, I know you will.” He stood and stretched. “Right now I need a shower. Then I’ve got work to do on my laptop. How about meeting me later for dinner, and hey,” he pointed to a poster by the lobby bar. “They have disco here on Wednesday nights. How about it? Bring your friend and we’ll boogie for a couple of hours. That should loosen us up after a tense day.”
“Two tense days.” Abby wondered if his infor
mation was that Dana was a lesbian. She studied the disco poster with a picture of a young disc jockey dressed in a white Travolta suit from Saturday Night Fever. “Tonight could be fun,” she said brightly. “I’ll ask Renee to join us.”
“I’d prefer to have dinner with you, alone. We need to talk. Renee can join us later.”
He wanted to talk, huh? “Okay, dinner it is. By the way, a new guy has been assigned to the case. Detective Fromer. He’ll probably be looking you up. He’ll be arriving at the Cal Neva at any moment to start his own interrogations. When he’s done with us, I know I’ll be ready to boogie.” She waved on her way out. “Pick me up at eight.”
Back at the Cal Neva, Abby slipped down the side path to avoid the media panel trucks still parked near the entrance. When she reached the pool area, she joined other poolside guests sprawled about in comfortable lounge chairs. Most were chatting or reading, and a lone woman wearing goggles and a white swim cap was swimming laps. Abby leaned her head back on the lounger and studied the billowy clouds overhead. What a mess this reunion had turned out to be. Two dancers dead, and four frightened. Hopefully four frightened, unless one turned out to be the killer.
Why had Blade even kidded around about being the killer? The thought hadn’t entered her mind, but now ... She wiggled the toes on her right foot. Hold it, Abby. Check that imagination. Yet, face it, how well did she know him? She wished a lot better. For that matter, after twenty-five years, how well did she know any of the women here? A lot happened in a quarter-century to change people. A lot had happened to her. She wasn’t the same starry-eyed young dreamer she had been before having to take full responsibility for raising twins.
The twins! She must call them and let them know she was all right before they heard the story on the radio or TV. As she dug into her purse for her cell phone, she was interrupted by a conversation between a middle-aged woman and man lolling in twin loungers directly behind her. She’d noticed them when she sat down.