by Sandi Scott
“Yes. Of course.” She blinked. “Just give me a second. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.” As she made her way through the restaurant, she pulled out her cell phone. She had set it on mute. Looking down she saw the little blue light flashing. She had a call. Actually, she had three. All the calls were from Aleta. All the calls were asking how things were going. I’ll call you later, Sis. I’ve got something else to do first. She dialed the number for Detective Schwarz.
“Schwarz,” the detective barked into the phone.
"Hello, Detective. This is Georgie Kaye. I was at the station just the other day to talk with you about the Madame Bray murder."
“Yes, Ms. Kaye. I remember.” Georgie was sure she could hear the eye-rolling in the detective’s voice. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I am hoping you can meet me at the cabaret.”
“Ms. Kaye, if you have information about the case, I think you can just give it to me over the phone,” Detective Schwarz insisted.
“I’d like to do that, but I can’t.” Georgie looked at her watch. “It’s really rather important that you meet me at the theater. All will make sense once you arrive, I promise.”
“Ms. Kaye, this precinct doesn’t rely on the public to tell us where to go or who to see when we are working a case. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, ma’am but I—”
"We are public servants, but we don't get ordered around. This kind of request is not only irregular, but it's time-consuming and—"
“Well, what else have you got to do?” The words just slipped out. Georgie was the last person to disrespect the badge, but she just couldn’t understand why Detective Schwarz wasn’t anxious to follow up with her. It made no sense.
“What did you just say?”
“That came out wrong, Detective. What I meant was what do you have to lose? If I’m wrong, I’m just a crazy older lady with too much time on her hands.”
There was no response. “Detective? Are you still there?”
“All right, Ms. Kaye,” Detective Schwarz sighed. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes of my time.”
“That’s all I’ll need. Can you meet me there at ten, maybe eleven o’clock?”
“That’s rather late, isn’t it?”
“Well, I got permission from my mom to stay out late.” Georgie thought she heard a chuckle but couldn’t be sure.
“Fine, Ms. Kaye. I’ll see you then.”
The detective hung up before Georgie could say thank you, but as she looked at her watch she realized she’d been in the ladies’ room much too long. Quickly, she headed back to Obby at their table. “I was starting to think that you left,” he teased.
“Sorry. My sister called a couple of dozen times,” Georgie lied. “She thinks the government is spying on her. I tried to explain to her that she’s too boring for them to spy on, but that doesn’t stop her from wrapping her head in tinfoil every night.”
"I get the feeling you are exaggerating," Obby said. "Your sister seemed normal when I met her."
“I know. Go figure.”
They left Gaylord’s Indian Restaurant and began to walk toward the theater. Obby offered Georgie his arm. She happily linked her arm through his and was quite surprised to feel the strong muscles beneath his jacket. When they finally reached the theater, Georgie gasped. The line to the entrance wrapped halfway down the block. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get in,” she said and bit her lower lip.
"Oh, don't be so sure of that!" Obby told Georgie to wait while he approached the man at the door. They spoke for a few moments. Before Georgie could figure out what was happening, Obby was waving her to come over.
“Follow me, Obby,” the doorman said as he walked through the door into the theater.
“I called ahead to make a reservation.”
The doorman led them through an already packed room. Georgie felt like part of the show since she had been to the theater so many times over the past few days. There were enough people she wasn't too worried that Henry Dupre would spot her in the crowd, at least not until she realized she was being led to the front row—the same table she sat at with Andrew and J.R.! There was no way Henry Dupre would miss her. This ought to make the evening even more exciting.
“How did you get such good seats?” Georgie asked.
"That's a secret," Obby said with a wink.
“Well, we ought to be in for a real...adventure.” All Georgie could imagine was the show starting and Henry Dupre stepping on stage, going into his routine and stopping in mid-sentence to point at her and scream, “UNCLEAN!”, or something just as mortifying. As the room continued to fill with the electricity of the first show after Madame Bray’s untimely murder, Georgie began to relax. As the show began, Henry Dupre was calm, collected, and captivating. He didn’t appear to notice who was in the front row of tables. Georgie breathed a little easier.
Finally, the time for the big reveal arrived. Jenny Holt was the new Madame. If she was half as good as Madame Bray was, Georgie felt sad she had been deprived of Madame’s performance. Suddenly, the entire show took on a different meaning. By the time intermission came, Georgie’s sides ached from laughing, and her hands were sore from clapping.
“Can I get you a drink?” Obby asked.
“I’d love a Coke,” she answered. The thought of a piña colada crossed her mind, but the words of Aleta and Stan crossed her mind about staying safe and being smart. “Yes, a Coke with a couple of cherries.”
"Coming right up," Obby answered before trotting off to muscle his way to the crowded bar. Georgie took a deep breath and looked at the people in the club. Everyone seemed to be having as wonderful a time as she was, everyone except one glum face. She knew that face—Taylor Bray. He was sitting at a table near the exit, and he was alone.
"He could just be sad," Georgie muttered. "He could be feeling remorse over fighting with his wife so much, or he might be suffering a bit of depression. That wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities, not at all."
“Did you say something?” Obby asked. He handed her a glass with half a dozen bright red maraschino cherries on top.
Georgie laughed and looked over her shoulder to see Taylor still glumly sitting there, then she turned back to Obby. “I was just singing. The songs are very catchy.”
Obby agreed. In just a few minutes, the second half of the show began. It was over the top exciting, but Georgie couldn’t help turning around to see what Taylor was doing: He was checking his watch, He was looking behind him, He was adjusting his tie—basically, he was fidgeting. Georgie tried to focus on the show, but the last time she turned around she saw Taylor stand up and start inching his way toward the exit.
Chapter 20
"I'll be right back," Georgie whispered to Obby. "I just need to get a little air and use the ladies’ room." Obby nodded and stood like a gentleman as she excused herself.
Weaving as quickly as she could through the crowded theater, Georgie made it to the exit and burst out onto the sidewalk. The fresh, cool air felt good across her skin. The faint smell of exhausts from the cars that crowded the street filled her nose. She couldn’t tell if the electricity she was feeling was making the hair on her neck stand on end or if it was the fact that Taylor Bray was standing just twenty feet from her at the edge of the parking lot staring at her.
“Hi, Taylor,” she said cheerily. Adrenaline pushed her feet to take a couple steps but stopped before she was within arm’s reach.
“I don’t know you,” Taylor spat, “but I know you’ve been following me, snooping on me. What do you want?”
"I was just wondering if you were excited about your new restaurant investment," Georgie asked with a shaky voice. Taylor stood there squinting at her. The only thing that moved on him was his fists as they clenched. “It was a $100,000 investment, right?”
“Who are you?” He took a step closer. “Are you looking for a hand-out? Looking to blackmail me on some bogus theory I killed my wife?”<
br />
“I didn’t say anything about you killing your wife, Taylor, but you just did. Is that what happened?” Georgie reached into the pocket of her pants. Just like Aleta was her guardian angel by picking out her outfit, she had also slipped her pepper spray into the pocket. Whether it was Stan’s suggestion or Aleta’s idea, Georgie didn’t care. They wanted her to be safe on her date with Obby. She withdrew the small weapon and pointed it at Taylor’s face.
“Just stay where you are, Taylor,” she pleaded. “If you get this stuff in your eyes, you’ll have to go to the hospital for the antidote. It’s basically wasp killer. Don’t make me use it.”
Taylor growled, “Who do you think you are threatening me?” His voice came from deep in his gut. “That’s what my wife used to do. She used to threaten and intimidate everyone she knew: the dancers in the show, the maintenance guys changing the light bulbs, the people who wanted her autograph for whatever reason. She didn’t know how to talk to anyone any other way. Now that she is gone, do you think you can just step in?”
“No. I’m telling you, for your own good, don’t move.”
“What kind of damage do you think I could do before you get a spritz of that stuff off?”
“Do you want to try it? This shoots up to twenty feet away. I know what it does to your eyes. I wonder what happens if you swallow any of it?” Georgie could see the wheels turning in Taylor’s head. How far was he from her? Could he get to her before the spray hit his eyes? Was anyone watching that could be trouble? While he was doing the math in his head a car swerved up onto the curb.
“Hold it right there!” Detective Schwarz jumped out of her car with her gun pointed at Georgie. Without waiting for instruction Georgie dropped the pepper spray and pointed to Taylor.
“Sir, I’ll need you to step back against that wall,” she ordered. Taylor thrust his hands into his pockets. Immediately, Detective Schwarz and her partner, a muscular bald man stuffed in a cheap suit, aimed their guns at him.
“Keep your hands where I can see them!” the bald officer ordered.
Taylor immediately did as he was told. “I don’t know what this is about, Officer,” Taylor stuttered. “She just came at me with her pepper spray. I don’t even know this woman, but she’s been following me around.”
“All right. Come talk to me.” The bald detective said as he secured Taylor and led him by the arm to a corner of the parking lot where he could see Georgie but couldn’t hear her.
“Ms. Kaye, this isn’t what I expected when you told me to meet you here.”
“I know this doesn’t look good, but trust me. I’ve got something that may be of interest to you.”
The detective holstered her weapon and walked up to Georgie, picking up her pepper spray from the sidewalk and looking at it. "This is a police issue."
Georgie cleared her throat. “My ex-husband is a detective. He gave that to me for my birthday two years ago.” She felt her cheeks blush.
“Your ex-husband is a detective? How interesting.” Detective Schwarz gave Georgie that same squinty smile that was really just a condescending flash of fake friendliness. Georgie squared her shoulders.
“Let me explain to you what I found out. You can take it or leave it, Detective.” Georgie continued to explain how she had learned of the Brays’ tumultuous relationship, the meeting with the restaurant investor, Madame Bray’s $100,000 savings, and Taylor’s possible investment of that money.
“If I’m wrong, lock me up. I could use the rest,” Georgie smirked, “but if I’m right you’ll have one less file on your desk and one less added to the cold cases. According to my ex-husband, that is always a good thing.”
Before Detective Schwarz could answer, she and Georgie heard Taylor raising his voice to the other detective. “I don’t know why?” he shouted. “I’m not the criminal here! She’s the one who accosted me!” He pointed at Georgie.
“I think we’ll need you both to come to the station for questioning,” Detective Schwarz said flatly.
“Fine by me. Can I have my date drive me?” Georgie jerked her thumb toward the theater entrance. As if on cue, Obby stepped outside and looked curiously at Georgie. “Obby, this is Detective Schwarz. Can you give me a lift to the police station?” Georgie acted as if she were asking for nothing more than a quick ride to pick up some bread or maybe toilet paper.
“Uh, uhm, of course, Georgie,” he stuttered.
Chapter 21
"I'm sorry to do this to you," Georgie said as they hurried to Obby's car that was still parked near Gaylord's Restaurant. "I was having a really lovely time, but crime stops for no man."
“I can’t believe that this is what you’ve been doing in your free time!” Obby marveled. “You said you were an artist. I’ve seen your work, and it’s absolutely beautiful. To be honest, I thought you spent your days in joyful solitude perfecting your craft. I would have never guessed you were a...a...gumshoe!”
“What a delightful term!” Georgie laughed. “I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I was enjoying the show and your company.”
Obby smiled. “So, tell me again how this all came to be? I heard about the murder from the papers. How did you get so involved?”
Georgie started with the night out with Andrew, J.R., and Aleta. She left out the part that they were seated at the same front row table that Obby had finagled for their date. She ended with them driving to the police station.
“I have to say, Georgie, it was careless of you to confront this man alone, in a parking lot, at night. If he is capable of what you think he is, there is no telling what he could have done to you.”
"I know, but my sister slipped my pepper spray into my pocket and—"
She couldn’t get the words back. For a second she thought they had been lost on Obby, but she was quickly proven wrong. “Why did she put pepper spray in your pocket?” He looked intrigued.
Georgie took a deep breath and wished they were at the police station already. That way she could put this conversation to one side for now, take it up later, or never again as long as she lived. But, they still have more than five blocks to drive with red lights at each one. “To be honest, I haven’t gone on a date since the divorce, except for our last brief encounter.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Oh, just over ten years.”
Obby’s eyes popped wide.
“My ex-husband and I are still friends. In fact, we make better friends than we ever did spouses.” Georgie didn’t go into the details about their split. Obby had proven to be a real gentleman, but Stan deserved the respect of privacy. “He was just concerned. He works for the police department, and, well, let's just say he doesn't always trust people. He bought me the pepper spray for my birthday. My sister slipped it into my pocket in case you had any ill intentions."
Obby chuckled, “That is the first time anyone ever thought I might cause a scandal.” He patted Georgie’s hand. “They must love you very much if they want to protect you.”
"Yes, I guess they do." Georgie looked out the window. She knew her family loved her, but the thought that Stan still loved her was a tweak to her heart. Suddenly, she wished she were with him. Now, Georgie, don’t start looking for flaws in Obby just because you think Stan is what you want. If he were, you would have gotten back together with him.
"On the other side of that coin, they also must know you take a lot of risks, like confronting a man in a parking lot?" Obby added. "Is this a common practice of yours? Do you often put yourself in harm's way?"
“Sometimes you must.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“I like that.” His words surprised her and she melted.
Finally, they made it to the police station. “Do you want me to come in with you, or should I wait in the car?” Obby asked. “I don’t want to get in the way.”
“How are you going to see how it turns out if you don’t come with me?” she teased as she climbed out of the car. Slipping her arm underneath his, she gave hi
m a quick squeeze. “Besides, I might need bail money.”
Obby chuckled and held the front glass door open for her to enter. The same officer was at the reception desk. He looked Georgie and Obby up and down as if they were animals at the zoo.
“Detective Schwarz is expecting us?” Georgie asked rather than told the officer. He typed into his computer.
“Your name, please?”
"Georgie Kaye. Malcolm Obberfield."
The officer whispered into the mouthpiece attached to his headset like he was trying not to wake a sleeping baby. “Go on back.”
"It's a good thing we are dressed up, Obby," Georgie said. "This is the fanciest police station you've ever seen. I think even the criminals get dressed up when they are finally caught. Their mug shots are like glamour shots."
Obby chuckled.
"Ms. Kaye. Thank you for coming but we don't need your assistance," Detective Schwarz snapped quickly as she came stomping from what looked like a fancy conference room. The little plaque on the side of the door read Interrogation Room. Of course, it was. Georgie saw Taylor Bray sitting in there, too, before the door quietly slid shut. His head was in his hands.
“What happened?”
“Mr. Bray confessed. As it turns out, Ms. Kaye, you were correct about almost everything.”
“Almost?” Georgie pulled back a little as if she’d just been insulted.
"Almost." Detective Schwarz acted like she enjoyed telling Georgie she didn't hit the nail squarely on the head. "You see, in the mind of a killer there are dozens of avenues for him to take to justify his actions. He didn't just kill Madame Bray for her savings. She was planning on filing for divorce. He would not have received any of her estates if she had signed on the bottom line."
“That’s kind of a small factor in the whole case—,” Georgie whispered.
“Yes, but that’s what happens when the public plays detective.”
“I wasn’t playing. I actually have a history—,” her voice was still low as she stared at Detective Schwarz who posed like a prize peacock.