by Vickie Fee
“Right,” he said, rising to his feet and nodding hello. “You were with the wedding party when Steve collapsed, weren’t you?”
“Yes, we were. It was just terrible what happened,” I said. “And to make things even worse, the police have arrested my cousin. We know Little Junior could never kill anyone.”
“Yeah, Little Junior doesn’t seem the type.”
“We’re looking for any information that could help with my cousin’s defense. I’m sure you already talked to the police, but if you could tell us anything. . .”
“The cops were back here first thing this morning and did a thorough search of the building. They carried a few things out in bags, but I don’t know what. They also took my camera card to look at shots from during the day. I’ve got wedding photos on that card that I haven’t uploaded yet. They assured me they’d make a copy and get it back to me within a day—or two. All that’s on there are pictures I took during ceremonies, so I doubt there’s anything that will be helpful anyway.”
“Can you tell us anything about Steve?” I said. “Had he acted odd or had a run-in with anybody lately?”
“I heard he had a run-in with Little Junior,” he said with a sly smile.
“Was there anything else?” Di interjected quickly, apparently fearing I might lose my temper—and blow our chance for getting any information from Gordy.
“I don’t know what it means, but even though Steve didn’t have another performing gig going, he’d been flush with cash lately. He just bought a fancy new car and a TCB ring with real diamonds. And I saw him whip out a wad of cash to pay for drinks when we were at a bar last week with some friends.”
“What about you—do you have any other paying gigs besides the chapel weddings?” I asked.
“Quite a few, actually. I do a bit of advertising photography, shoot some events, like charity galas. In fact, tomorrow morning I’m doing a photo shoot at the Venetian with some beauty pageant contestants. Shooting weddings here isn’t my biggest paycheck but it’s steady work, while the other jobs come and go.”
Some people walked into the chapel, presumably guests for the next scheduled wedding, so we took that as our cue to leave. We quietly thanked Gordy as we left the chapel. Just as we entered the lobby, Taylor stepped into the reception area from the back hallway.
“Excuse me. What were you two doing in the chapel area? We have ceremonies scheduled.”
“The bride couldn’t find her hanky when we got back to the hotel last night,” Di lied. “We were just checking the chapel to see if she dropped it there.”
“If she did, I’m sure the police collected it as evidence,” Taylor said.
“It’s monogrammed, so if they found it, hopefully they’ll return it,” Di said.
“Actually, Taylor, I was hoping to talk to you,” I said. She flashed me a fleeting “Oh, no, not you again” expression before she rallied and forced a smile.
“It’s Mrs. Walford, isn’t it?”
“I’m her daughter, yes. As you can imagine, my mother is still a little shook up, so she’s resting. But I wanted to talk to you about rescheduling the wedding.”
“Of course. I heard about Little Junior’s arrest. I’m sure that hasn’t helped his aunt’s frame of mind.”
I detected some snark in her comment but decided to let it pass.
“Of course, none of us think for a minute that Little Junior had anything to do with Steve’s death. You worked with Steve—what do you make of all this?”
“I knew he had a drinking problem and I just assumed he’d had a heart attack, until I heard about the arrest.”
“Did Steve have a family? A wife, kids?”
“An ex-wife in California. No kids,” Taylor said, her eyes shooting daggers. “Did your mother have a time in mind for rescheduling?”
“Perhaps this weekend. There’s a limit to how long we can stay here. But, naturally, we’re concerned about Little Junior’s situation.”
“Naturally,” she said, using a mouse to scroll down her computer screen. “Weekends are busy for us. Right now, I have an opening at ten-thirty Saturday night. But that may not last long. It’s possible we could also have a cancellation. Some people do get cold feet.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you hear about Little Junior’s arrest? From the police?”
“The police were back here this morning, but they didn’t say anything about the arrest. I heard it from a friend,” Taylor said. “You need to let me know as soon as possible about the rescheduling.”
We were clearly being dismissed.
Di and I walked out the front door.
“That was quick thinking with the monogrammed hanky. I never knew you were such a smooth liar,” I said, thinking how Di usually tended toward brutal honesty.
“Just one of my many talents—when the situation calls for it.”
The VW was parked on the side in the shade. We walked over and climbed into our previous spots in the Beetle. Crystal was eating a candy bar.
“I get low blood sugar,” she said as she licked melty chocolate off her fingertips.
“Crystal, Taylor said that Steve had an ex-wife in California. Besides her, can you think of anyone with a motive to kill him?” I asked.
“Just about anyone who knew him. He was a vain, self-centered womanizer.”
“Is that what first attracted you to him?” Di asked with her deadpan charm.
“Obviously, he’s good-looking, and he can be extremely charming. And he is talented. He seems like a catch until you get to know him.”
“Do you know if he recently had any regular gigs, besides the chapel, or any regular women, besides Taylor?”
“I don’t know that I’d describe Taylor as a regular. I think she was more a fallback between other women. I have caught sight of him a few times recently at the hotel.”
“Was he gambling?”
“No, he was stepping into or out of the elevators that go up to the guest rooms. He had a part in the Ages of Elvis Show, playing the role of Elvis in his 1968 Comeback Special era. That show ended its run at the hotel a couple of months ago. But Steve could have hooked up with some woman who has a part in a current show or with someone who works at the hotel.”
“You don’t have any ideas who he might’ve been seeing?”
“No. I know I’m not flattering myself, seeing as I went out with him a few times. But honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved with any female as long as she’s breathing.”
In the rearview mirror, I spotted a woman walking to the back of the lot.
“Isn’t that Taylor?” I said.
“I think so,” Di said, eyeing the side mirror.
“You two duck down—quick,” Crystal said.
Di put her face to her knees and I leaned over until my head was almost touching the gear shift.
“That’s her, all right,” Crystal said. “And she’s getting into a black Cadillac.”
“I wonder where she’s off to,” Di said.
“Crystal, let’s follow her and see what she’s up to. It’s kind of early for lunch.”
“Yeah, and that’s not her car. It’s one of the limos they use to pick up bridal parties. But I can’t imagine Taylor working as a chauffeur.”
Crystal fired up the bug and Di and I briefly ducked again as Taylor drove past on the other side of a line of cars.
“Will Taylor recognize your car?” Di asked.
“I don’t know that she’s ever seen my car, but I’ll hang back a bit just to be safe.”
She pulled out and fishtailed into her lane with just one car between us and Taylor.
I feared we were going to lose her when Taylor pushed a traffic light. Fortunately, the car between us ran the yellow light, too. Crystal stomped on the gas pedal and ran it on red.
Taylor pulled up to the front entrance at one of the larger hotels and stopped, apparently waiting for someone to come out. I began to fear she was just collecting a bride and groom
to take to the chapel.
We pulled behind the line of taxis, which gave us a convenient spot to keep Taylor under surveillance. At least until one of the doormen spotted us or a taxi driver started honking for us to move. Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long.
An elegant man in an expensive-looking suit came out of the hotel and got into the front seat with Taylor.
“Look, they’re leaving,” I said.
Crystal pulled out and made a less than smooth maneuver around a shuttle bus, but managed not to lose Taylor as we merged back onto Las Vegas Boulevard. She made some dicey moves changing lanes, in my opinion, but managed to keep up and keep one or two cars’ distance between us and our quarry. Pretty impressive, considering we had a Beetle matched against a big engine Cadillac.
“You two know who that is, don’t you?” Crystal asked.
“No,” we said almost in unison.
“That’s Ben Bartoli. He owns the Burning Love Wedding Chapel and a limo service and a few other businesses in town.”
“If he owns the chapel, would he have had anything to do with hiring Steve? And does he drop by the chapel very often?” I asked.
“I don’t know how often he comes by. But I do know that the Elvis-impersonator ministers have to do an interview and audition for Bartoli, with Taylor and Gordy sitting in.”
“Why Gordy?”
“He takes some photos to see if the guy is photogenic and will look good in people’s wedding photos. That’s what Little Junior told me,” she said.
“Hmm. Why does Bartoli look so familiar to me?”
“You may have seen him on TV commercials or billboards. His picture gets around Vegas.”
Taylor turned into another hotel-casino on the Strip. Crystal jerked the wheel and drove one tire over the curb after nearly missing the driveway. Taylor and the mystery man both got out of the car, and she passed off the keys to the valet.
“I have to go to work soon, so I’m just going to drop you here. Call me later if you find out anything interesting.”
“Thanks, Crystal,” I said.
Di and I jumped out of the car, hurrying to keep Taylor in sight.
Taylor and Bartoli slowly strolled, arm in arm. We followed them to a nice restaurant, where they appeared to have a reservation. We didn’t have a reservation, and couldn’t really trail them into the restaurant without being seen.
I fell in step with a group of students passing by and used them as cover to peer into the eatery, which had glassless windows facing out onto the colonnade. A waiter had seated Taylor and her guest next to a window. I saw the college group had split apart, avoiding me. I had lost sight of Di, but quickly slipped behind some greenery for a moment. I spied a wine bar with a view to the restaurant and grabbed a bistro chair on its patio. I was about to text Di, when she sat down in the chair next to me.
We ordered two glasses of Chardonnay and tried to keep a discreet eye on the couple. Taylor’s back was to us, but we could see the man’s face, which was illuminated by a skylight. I could also clearly see his left hand, which was devoid of a wedding band. That was just as well since he was gently brushing his fingers against Taylor’s arm as he gazed at her attentively. After a moment of caressing, he clasped her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
“He’s either her boyfriend or a creep,” Di said.
“He could be both.”
I desperately wished I could hear what they were saying. They appeared to be having a long, leisurely lunch.
“We’d better go. I think we’d be pushing our luck to follow them when they leave the restaurant, even if we could find a cab driver who would be willing to play the ‘follow that car’ game.”
We caught a taxi back to our hotel.
“I’m starving. I didn’t have breakfast and I’m guessing neither did you,” I said as we walked in through the lobby.
“Yeah, let’s hit the food court, or actually there’s a diner-style restaurant on the other side of the casino. We can grab a booth there. It might be quieter,” Di offered.
We walked through the casino, our senses assaulted by the clanging, dinging, ringing of the slot machines, their musical excitement designed to lure people into stuffing money into them in hopes of a big payoff.
It was still a bit early for lunch, but the diner was already more than half full. But then, Las Vegas really is an open-twenty-four-hours kind of town. For some people who’d been up all night gambling, or working, this was their breakfast. The menu and style of the booths reminded me of Town Square Diner back in Dixie. But after one bite, I knew the food was no match for the down-home goodness of the restaurant situated just across the square from my office, where I frequently have lunch.
“Should you call and check on your mama and see what’s up with your cousin?”
“If there was any real news about Little Junior, I’m sure Mama or Larry Joe would call me. And if I call Mama, she’ll want a report on how our ‘investigation’ is going,” I said, punctuating the word “investigation” with air quotes.
“We don’t have anything to report at this point, do we?”
“Well, it seems Steve may have had some extracurricular money-making activities that might not have been completely legal,” I said.
“Gordy seems to think so. What about Taylor? Did she tell us anything new?”
“Not as much as I would have liked. We now know Steve has an ex-wife, but no kids. And Taylor knew about Little Junior’s arrest, but she didn’t hear it from the cops. She seems to be hiding something, but I don’t know what.”
“Just about everyone has something to hide,” Di said.
“Yeah. So, what about Gordy? What do you think he’s hiding? He has to be on the suspect list, since he was on-site around the time of the murder. What do you make of him? Do you think he was tossing dirt on Steve’s grave to discourage us from digging up dirt on him?”
“He seems nice enough. But you’re right. He’s a suspect and we know nothing about him.”
“I don’t have any ideas about who could tell us more about Gordy, but I just had an idea about who might know something about Taylor,” I said.
“Who’s that?”
“My pal Jana.”
“The one who hooked you up for the beefcake bachelorette dinner?”
“That’s the one. As a wedding planner, Taylor may belong to the same local planners’ association that Jana does. I think the conference is still going. I’ll wander down to the meeting rooms and see if I can casually bump into Jana. If not, I can always text her. If Jana knows any gossip on Taylor, or anyone else for that matter, I have a feeling she’ll be more than happy to dish. Do you want to come with me?”
“No, you’d probably have more luck with her if I don’t tag along. Besides, we’re in Las Vegas and I haven’t even touched a slot machine. I think I’ll stroll through the casino and see how Lady Luck treats me.”
My phone dinged and I looked down to see I had a text from Holly.
Too many fat Elvises.
That was too intriguing not to follow up on, so I hit the call back button.
“I have to ask, what’s up with the fat Elvises?”
“Oh, my heavens. You know we’re having the Elvis and Priscilla look-alike contest before the dance.”
“Right.”
“Well, three or four men thought ahead and actually called and reserved costumes at the shop in Memphis. Most of them weren’t planning to participate in the contest. Or if they were, they had bought some dime store Halloween Elvis costume. But now that they’ve arrived in Dixie and gotten a look at the sharp costumes some of the guys have rented or even purchased, a dozen beer-bellied men want high quality costumes—and they expect me to locate them. At the last minute. In their size. During Elvis Week in Memphis.”
“Have you waved your magic wand?”
“No, but I’m about ready to wave a certain finger at some of these oversized, overbearing . . . gentlemen.”
It’s rare that Hol
ly loses her cool. In fact, most of the time, she’s practically Zen. I could tell she was being pushed to her limit.
“Do you want me to call some shops around the mid-South and see if we can locate some costumes and have them FedExed for this weekend?”
“No, thanks, darlin’. I’ve already done so. The guy at the Nashville shop, who has always been super helpful, as you know, offered to reach out and call in some favors. I’m waiting to hear back from him.
“I had the good fortune, if you want to call it that, of locating the largest size they make for a whale-sized man. After the costume was delivered yesterday, I had him come by Sweet Deal Realty to try it on. He took the costume into the restroom to change into it. The costume fit him like a sausage casing, which seemed appropriate—since he’s a big wiener.”
I’d been trying to fight back the laughter, but I was cracking up at this point. Despite her obvious frustration, Holly was giggling, too.
“That . . . hot dog had the nerve to tell me I’d have to get it altered for him. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I told him the costume shop wouldn’t allow us to do alterations, so he’d have to take it or leave it. He was mulling that over when Winette, God bless her, suggested he wear some spandex under it.”
I tried to put that image out of my head.
“Liv, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. It’s really under control, or as under control as possible. I guess I just needed to vent.”
“I’m glad you did. That’s the best laugh I’ve had all day. And likely the last one.”
“Oh, Winette told me about the wedding postponement. I’m so sorry.”
“Things are worse than that,” I said. “Since then, the police have arrested Little Junior for that Elvis minister’s death.”
“Oh, no. That’s terrible. Your mother must be beside herself.”
“She is. And Di and I are scouting around to find a replacement suspect for the police.”
“Of course. Good luck—and be careful. I’ll try not to bother you with minutiae, since you have important business to look after there.”
“No, Holly, what you’re doing in Dixie is important business, too—the stuff that pays the bills kind of business. Please keep me posted, or I’ll worry.”