by Norma Lehr
Fromer removed his dark glasses and polished them on a corner of his blue knit shirt. “Looks like you’ve got control of the situation, so I’ll be going.” He turned to leave.
“Wait a minute,” Abby called. “What situation? Did you follow me here? I’m curious.”
He turned back. “Yeah. I followed you following them. When women involved in my investigation are out on a deserted campground beach with a man, I consider that a situation.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Anything else?”
They both shook their heads. When Fromer passed Tom again, he was gazing out over the water. Fromer stopped and said something before moving on.
Abby jumped from the rock ledge where she’d been standing and crossed to the water’s edge. Renee followed, limping slightly. “Wait here a minute,” Abby said. “I need to get something. Bathe that foot while I’m gone. Cold water should help.” She made a beeline for Tom, who ignored her when she reached his side. Standing next to him, she was surprised at his stature. Somehow she’d always thought of him as taller. She guessed it was the extra weight that made him look stocky. “Sorry about your back.” She tried to sound sympathetic. “Renee’s been under a lot of stress with what’s been going on; you know, the murders.”
Tom turned and faced her, his black eyes blazing. “You think I haven’t? Melanie was my wife, or didn’t anyone tell you?”
Abby gave an innocent shrug. “No one tells me much. I seem to be out of the loop. I wondered … can I bum a smoke from you? I left mine in the car.”
Tom reluctantly shook a cigarette out of his pack, and Abby took it. He flicked on his lighter. Abby puffed, drew in, and let the smoke escape from her mouth without inhaling. “Thanks.” She checked her watch. “See you tonight?”
For a moment, he looked confused. “Oh, right. At the Celebrity Room. Sure. Sure. We’ll knock ’em dead.” He glanced down the beach, where Renee was swirling her sore foot in the water, grunted and stared out at the lake again. “Tell your friend that if she ever throws me down like that again, I’ll file charges.”
“Will do.” Abby feigned mock seriousness. “She’ll want to know that.” On her way back to Renee, Abby pinched out the unsmoked cigarette. She’d see if this one matched the butt from Melanie’s Chalet. If it did, she’d pass it on to Fromer. If not, she’d continue her search. Now, to find out what Tom told Renee.
After they located the park’s outdoor latrine and were settled in the car, Renee took the driver’s seat and spilled it all out. The major news: Tom was still legally married to Melanie. He and Melanie had been married in Tahoe years earlier on their way to Hollywood. They had planned, or so he said, a reunion of sorts for this evening. She’d been the one to set up the lounge gig for him at Harveys this month. Seems she had connections with a celebrity agent she had met at one of her fundraiser functions. “My, my, money does open doors!”
“So, we’re talking bigamy here. Melanie never divorced Tom but went on to marry two other men?”
“Guess so. I’m wondering now if Tom is Melanie’s beneficiary? If so, he’ll be one wealthy guy. Hmmm. Maybe I acted too swiftly. Should’ve paced my moves and not thrown him down on the sand.” She turned and gave Abby a wicked grin. “Oh, but it felt sooo good!”
“Did he explain why he left you in New York to run off with Melanie?”
“He said he’d gotten himself into a real jam, and Melanie offered to help get him off the hook by taking him west with her to Hollywood. They stopped here on their way, said their vows, and the rest we know.”
“He had to run, so whatever he did must have been bad. Were the police after him? Maybe that’s why the alias, T.J. Barry.”
“Could be. You know, I don’t really care. He was using drugs back then. If he’s wanted for some old scam, that’s his problem.”
“It’s our problem if he thinks one of us could turn him in. Who knows what went down back then? Somebody might have been killed. Could be a cold case file. Melanie had to know. I’ll bet Dana knew, too. Could be why they’re dead.”
Abby reached in her bag, pulled out the Harveys flyer featuring Tom’s toothy smile, and showed it to Renee. “See you there, babe!” she read aloud. “He gives his room number. Renee, this note wasn’t meant for you.”
“That bastard!” Renee snorted. “Telling me in the car how he’s still in love with me while he’s putting the moves on Gail or Blythe.”
“So which one is it?” Abby folded the flyer and stuck it back in her bag.
“My guess is Blythe. She’s the one who left Gail stranded in South Shore. She must have gone to Harveys by herself and looked up Tom. How would she have known he was there unless they’d been in touch?”
Abby nodded. “Exactly. If it was Gail who found Tom Moran, aka T. J. Barry, how did she know?” Abby tapped her chin. “Unless one of them happened to see a marquee with his picture.”
“Look,” Renee shook her head. “If I didn’t recognize him in person at the disco ... Here, let me take another look at that.” She grabbed the flyer from Abby’s hand. “Nope. Doesn’t look anything like the love of my life, or who I thought was the love of my life. Even his nose looks bigger. With a schnoz like that, I’ll bet he’s a major drinker!”
“Did Tom mention when he got to North Shore?”
“I didn’t ask. Figured he came to disco. Why?”
“I saw someone on the darkened stage at the showroom yesterday in a hooded jacket. Tom wears black track pants and has a dark hooded windbreaker. He wore them today. Maybe he wore them at Melanie’s that night and on stage yesterday. I couldn’t tell if the figure was a man or woman.”
“The guy’s a jerk. But a murderer? Nope, I can’t believe that.” Renee was silent for the next couple of miles. Abby let her alone, hoping that what she’d told her would sink in. When they passed the sheriff’s office, Renee finally said, “What was ‘whoever’ doing on the stage? Planning something devious for the performance?” She shivered. “I think you better tell Fromer. Whoever you saw could be the killer.”
“You could be right. I’ll tell him as soon as I get a chance to talk to Gail.”
“There’s no time for that! We go on tonight.” She turned to Abby with frightened eyes. “If you don’t tell Fromer before the footlights go up, then I will.”
“Deal,” said Abby. “At least we know that Blythe’s tea or Gail’s Powrdanz didn’t kill Melanie.”
Renee nodded. “Yeah, but one of them still could’ve done it. Like Fromer said, somebody had to know what Melanie used to relieve her back pain. Dana must have, and she probably didn’t keep it a secret.”
“She might have known, but I doubt she was the one. Whoever did it brought the poisoned syringe here to the Cal Neva.”
“Sobering thought, isn’t it?” Renee said. “I hope Fromer realizes I wouldn’t even know how to use a syringe if I had one.”
“That’s what I’m trying to prove. If I can corral Gail and find out what went on in South Shore when she and Blythe borrowed this car, maybe I can learn something that will take the spotlight off you.”
Tom’s gold 280Z came up behind them. He honked loudly, passed at high speed, cut in front of them, and slowed. Renee hit the brake, causing her car to swerve.
“Immature bastard,” she muttered. “If he did these killings, I hope I’m there when he hangs.”
Chapter 15
Jan was relaxing in a lounger poolside when Abby and Renee strolled by the wrought-iron gate. She raised her head and shielded her eyes. “I’m not sleeping,” she said groggily, reaching for the remnants of a mixed drink in the beverage holder. “Come on in. I want your take on the costumes.”
Renee nudged Abby’s arm and they reluctantly made their way through the gate. “We need to rest for tonight, so we can only stop for a minute.”
“A minute’s all it’ll take. Can I order you two drinks?”
They refused her offer, wondering how many she had had herself that she would even suggest such a thing before a perform
ance.
“You do know I ordered those costumes on my own,” Jan said. “Paid for them, too.”
“Very generous of you,” Abby said. “We all could have helped with the expense.”
Jan waved it off. “I’ll get the cash back tonight. One good crowd’s all it’ll take.” She shifted and adjusted the back of the lounger. “So, do you like them, or what?”
“Sure, sure,” they both agreed. “You did a great job.” Abby pursed her lips. “You’ve really pulled everything together, considering all that’s happened.”
“That’s right, but you two don’t know the latest.” Jan pulled a paper from the pocket of her skimpy red shorts. “Read this, my friends.”
Abby looked at Renee. “What is it?”
Jan flapped the paper in Abby’s face. “Just read it!”
Block letters, clipped from a magazine, covered two lines.
CANCEL THE PERFORMANCE.
STAGE THIS ACT TONIGHT AND YOU’RE ACED.
Abby handed the note to Renee, who had been reading it over Abby’s shoulder. “Where did you get this?”
“Pinned on the wall in my dressing room. Sinatra’s old room.”
Renee handed the threatening note back to Jan. “Have you called Fromer?”
“So, you don’t think this is some kind of joke?”
Abby winced. “How could you not take this seriously? There’s a killer running loose. Practical jokes are not on the program.”
Jan finished off her drink. “Whoever did this is in for a shock. I don’t scare easy.”
“Maybe you don’t,” Renee shuddered, “but I do. Top of my head—I’d say you’re next on the killer’s list.”
Abby rubbed the now throbbing temples of her forehead. “This is bad. Now that our fingerprints are all over the paper, Fromer won’t have anything to work with.”
Jan stripped off her shorts to reveal a string bikini. “Well, if the killer comes after me, he’ll have one hell of a fight.” She dove in the pool and began doing laps, her strokes strong and sure as a professional swimmer’s. Abby and Renee watched, impressed.
“Wow,” Renee swallowed hard. “She means it, too. Did you get a load of that figure? That gal works out.”
Abby put her hands on her hips. “She’s young and strong, but no match for a killer. Come on. Let’s go to the bar and get iced tea. I need a pick-me-up.”
No sooner had they found two free barstools when Melanie’s cute young dealer joined them and motioned for the bartender. “Get these dancers what they want. Stick it on my tab.”
Renee gave him her flirtatious smile. “How gallant.” To the bartender, she said, “Ice teas. Not Long Island ice teas, though. Just the regular harmless kind. We have to perform tonight.” She turned back to the dealer. “Who are you?”
He moved his chair closer to Renee. “Vince, at your service.”
“Vinnie,” said Renee. “I like that better.”
He laughed deeply. “Fits me, huh?”
Renee slipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “Perfectly,” she purred.
Abby winced at her friend’s attempts to be coy.
Vince seemed to be buying it. “We’re having a small champagne bash at my condo over in Incline Village after tonight’s show,” he said. “We’d like you two to join us.”
Abby broke in. “Who’s we?”
“A couple of the other dealers and our pit boss. Your coach and the other two dancers will be there. We thought we’d liven up the night after the depressing stuff that has been going down around here.”
“Sure.” Renee’s eyes lit up. She thought a moment. “Is the emcee invited?”
“Old Barry? You got it. He’s a comic on and off the stage. He’ll jazz things up.”
Renee stirred her iced tea and shoved her straw in the lemon slice. “Some other time, then.” Her eyes narrowed. “I need to rest for tomorrow night’s show. It’s early to bed tonight.”
Vince turned to Abby. “How about you? You look ready to party.”
“Hmm. I might. Can I let you know later?”
“Any time.” He stood and leaned over Renee. “Think about it. If you change your mind ...” He placed his card on the table. “Drop in.” He turned and left for the gaming tables.
“You’re not thinking of going there without me, are you?” Renee asked. “You know I can’t go if Tom’s there. I don’t trust myself to be in the same room with him and not say or do something that could cause a scene.”
“It’s a chance to gather more information,” Abby said. “I can eavesdrop, ask a few questions … who knows what I might come up with?” She rested her chin on her hand. “I need to find out who left that cigarette butt in Melanie’s chalet. That reminds me, I need to compare Tom’s to the one I snagged.” She jumped up. “Come on. This could be important.”
Back at the chalet, Renee soaked her foot in a bowl of Epson salts provided by the maid, while Abby attempted to match the cigarettes. “Tom’s has a brown label and what looks like a star on the side, but this one,” she held the butt up to Renee’s eyes, “has nothing. It’s probably been burned off.”
Renee waved Abby’s hand away. “Phew. Get that stinking thing away from my nose.” She made a face. “I can’t believe I actually smoked at one time.”
Abby laughed. “Yeah—part of our youth.” She took a whiff of each cigarette before she set them on the wicker table. “They smell the same. I wonder if a real smoker could tell the difference.”
Renee removed her foot from the soak and wrapped it in a towel. “So what do you think about that warning note Jan received? I can’t believe she’s not scared.”
“She could be and is just trying to act tough. Otherwise, why did she show that paper to us?”
Renee nodded. “True. Do you think that hooded person you saw on the stage yesterday could have left it?”
“The possibility entered my mind. I’ve decided to tell Fromer. It’s ridiculous for Jan to let something like this go.” Abby lifted the hotel receiver and dialed. “Detective Fromer, please.”
“What did he say?” Renee asked when Abby finished her call.
“He’s coming over to pay Jan a visit. I’m meeting him in the lobby first. I need to tell him about the hooded figure.”
On the way to the lobby, Abby bumped into Gail. “I’ve won more than two hundred dollars already today!” She gushed. “What a rush! Why don’t you try your luck? Come on.”
“Sorry, I’m not a gambler—not on machines, anyway.” What rotten luck! She’d finally caught Gail alone but didn’t have time to talk. “Are you planning to play here for a while? I’ve got to meet someone right now, but I’d really like to chat. It seems like you and I haven’t had a free moment to catch up.”
“If I hang around, I’ll be on the poker machines.” She gazed longingly over at the blackjack tables. “No. I better get up to my room, count my winnings, and take a nap before we perform. Hopefully I’ll see you at the party tonight over at Incline. My hubby won’t be making it here for the performance, so I’m going solo. Do come and bring that charming ex-cop friend of yours.” She winked conspiratorially. “Look for me. We can chat at the condo.” She hurriedly made it to the elevators as the door hummed open. She waved at Abby before the doors closed.
It would be interesting tonight to watch Gail and Blythe at Vince’s bash. Abby wondered how they’d interact with Tom. After the champagne started flowing, juicy details about Melanie or Dana might bubble up and shed light on the murders.
She felt a firm tap on her shoulder and turned to face Detective Fromer. “Thanks for the call.” His tone—serious. “Your coach is a foolish woman if she thinks someone’s playing a joke. There are no practical jokes where murder is concerned.”
They went to a table in the Circle Bar and waved off service. “I saw Melanie the night before she died,” Abby confessed. “She was alone, and crying. You’d have to know her to realize how out of character that was. She wanted to talk, but I didn’t have the t
ime.” Without a word of explanation, she passed him the two cigarettes. “Also … I was … exploring the hotel the other day, and I saw a hooded figure on the stage. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The clothing was baggy, and anything might have been under it—a buff body or a pot belly.” She hoped she wouldn’t have to share her across-the-boulders gymnastics to the cordoned off chalet. “I figured if I asked around and kept my eyes open, I might find out something you could use. Sometimes, in casual conversation, people share information they feel wouldn’t be important to the police.”
Fromer held up the cigarettes. “Where do these come in?”
“I found this one,” Abby said, “in Melanie’s chalet.” She hesitated. After she died. This one,” she pointed, “belonged to Tom Moran, also known as T.J. Barry. I bummed a cigarette.”
“You don’t smoke, I take it,” Fromer said wryly. “I’m not going to ask about how you got into the chalet, or why you would tamper with evidence—at least not right now,” Fromer said. There are more pressing issues.” He jotted a few notes in his pocket spiral before he looked up. “Why are you taking these foolish risks? Because of your friend?” He paused. “Ah-hah! You think she tops my list of suspects.”
Abby squirmed in her seat. “She thinks she might.”
He gave a huge sigh. “Please don’t endanger yourself by getting involved. Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing. Tell your friend, Renee, to relax. Like I said before, everyone here is under scrutiny. Let me do my job. We’re trying to avoid another killing. Now, I’d better find your coach and get hold of that paper.” He stood and gazed across the Circle Bar to the windows overlooking the lake. “I’ve been told it’s a sell-out crowd tonight. Take care.” He turned and left, heading down to the pool.
Fromer looked tired today. She wondered who was on his list of suspects? For all she knew, she topped his list. After all, he shared more information with others. She doubted anyone had seen her enter Melanie’s chalet that night, because someone would have been asking questions. Unfortunately, Blythe had figured out how she’d retrieved the used tea bag. She might have said something to Fromer.