4 Yip/Tuck

by Sparkle Abbey

  I pulled the tab. A newspaper clipping fluttered to the counter.

  “What’d I tell ya, cookie?” she cackled.

  I unfolded the paper. It was an advertisement for opening night for an entertainment show. The venue name was missing. I didn’t recognize either of the women in the picture. They weren’t exactly natural beauties with their enormous hair, sequined gowns, and a ton of eye glitter; they posed in a manner that was neither natural nor sexy. The headline read Jackie O and La—a. La—a? I wasn’t even sure how to pronounce her name. I decided to go with “La-ah”.

  Could one of them be the “other woman” we had heard about?

  “Let me see.” Betty tugged on my sleeve.

  I showed it to her and then Darby.

  Betty scrunched her lips disgusted. “Blondie needs a new hair stylist. Her hair is awful. It looks like a wig.”

  I chuckled. It did look like a wig. Exactly like the wig Tova carried off to God knows where. My pulse quickened. I blinked, making sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.

  “That dark-haired one looks familiar. I’ve seen her before.” Betty tapped her nose in concentration.

  “I don’t think Tova knows about this,” Darby stated.

  “You’re thinking what I am, aren’t you? That’s the wig Tova stole.”

  “I remember,” Betty shouted, her petite body vibrating with excitement. “They’re drag queens. I saw their show at the Kitty Kat Club. That blonde, Jackie O, she was bad. No timing, bad makeup. Came out in a pink suit and pillbox hat. Horrible. I got my money back.”

  I completely avoided the fact that Betty had been to a drag show. “You’re sure?” The blonde did have a strong jaw line.

  “I’m old, but I’m not on my deathbed. You girls need to get out more. Experience life. Those aren’t ugly ladies. They’re definitely drag queens.”

  I looked closer at the photo. Something clicked in my brain. “Oh. My. Gosh.” You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Jackie O is Jack O’Doggle.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE KITTY KAT Club had a reputation for over-the-top fun and bawdy humor. I’d Googled the club and found their website in seconds. There was a show tonight at eleven. It had taken some cajoling and begging, but I’d finally talked Darby into going with me. It was decided that I’d pick her up at ten.

  Then I called Betty’s daughter, Valerie. After a brief chat, I realized why Betty wanted out of the house. Valerie seemed fixated on her need to be the center of attention rather than her mother’s need to keep active. I hired Betty to work four hours Monday through Friday.

  I told her to come back the next day at noon for some official training. That would give me time to run a background check, too. You never know.

  After Betty and Darby had gone, I printed out the addresses I’d promised Malone and ran them over to the police station. For once, luck was on my side. Malone was otherwise occupied. I left the report with the clerk and skedaddled before my luck ran out.

  I loved adventure and new experiences, but even I felt apprehensive about tonight. On the drive home, I racked my brain for anyone who might have some pointers. Then it came to me. The perfect person was right under my nose.

  The minute I opened my front door, Missy greeted me with snorts and kisses. I loved her up and told her I missed her. While I filled her dog bowls with water and kibble, Missy found her leash and dragged it to the kitchen.

  “You wanna go for a walk?” I scratched her head with all the adoration I felt for my pooch. “Okay, let’s go.” I grabbed my cell and off we went.

  While we were on our walk, Darby called to let me know Caro had agreed to a few outdoor shots. I promised to be at Caro’s by nine forty-five the next morning.

  Once Missy was finished with her doggie business, inspecting every bush and tree along the route, we returned home.

  I pulled my cell from my back pocket and called Kendall Reese, groomer extraordinaire.

  “Divine Dog Spa,” a female voice answered.

  “Hi. This is Melinda Langston. Is Kendall there?”

  “Hold on a minute.” I heard her set the phone down. Dogs barked and howled in the background as I waited.

  I dropped to the couch and pulled off my boots. I’d met Kendall a couple of months ago and immediately enjoyed his flamboyant personality. If anyone knew their way around a drag club, he had to be the one.

  “Kendall here,” he said with poise and professionalism.

  “Hey, it’s Melinda Langston. I have a huge, huge favor to ask.”

  “Girlfriend, if this is about Fluffy, forgetaboutit. That doggie doesn’t like me.” His feminine voice, full of Latin attitude, filled my ear.

  I was pretty sure there was a hand-wave and snap that I couldn’t see at the end of that sentence.

  “Snob Dog doesn’t like anyone. Don’t take it personally. I called because my friend and I were hoping you’d come with us to the Kitty Kat Club tonight? You know, show us the ropes.”

  “Ooooh. Are you gettin’ your inner diva on?” he asked excitedly.

  I smiled. “Something like that. What do you say? Are you in?”

  “Sounds fab-u-lous.”

  I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt. “One last question. What do we wear?”

  KENDALL HAD TWO syllables of advice. “Spar-kle.” Snap.

  I decided on my black Rachel Zoe sequined shift dress and t-strap gold pumps. I pinned my hair into an intricate updo with sideswept bangs. A little something I’d learned during my pageant days. Darby kept her hair down and wore a more understated navy Michael Kors number and nude platform shoes.

  “Yoo-hoo, Melinda. Over here,” a sing-song voice clamored above the music.

  For a second I thought I was trapped in a bad music video. A tall, wiry man Soul Trained across the crowded floor in tight, black tuxedo trousers and a red lame’ shirt unbuttoned to his wide waistband. Kendall had his own style, but tonight he’d outdone even himself.

  A handful of gold chains slapped his hairless chest as he boogied closer. The second I was within reach, he grabbed my hand and twirled me in front of him.

  “Oooh, Mama, you look hot, hot, hot.”

  He swiveled toward Darby and tsked dramatically. “Girlfriend, where’s your spar-kle?”

  She held up her gold sequined clutch, apparently afraid to speak. I was under the same spell.

  “My sad little doggie has more sparkle than you,” he said with a head bob. “You need to loosen up with some alcohol. Follow me ladies.” And off he danced.

  The club was huge. To the left, a separate dance room, packed from mirrored-wall to mirrored-wall with gyrating bodies and throbbing bass.

  To the right, the bar. It had to be the largest bar I’d seen since college, stretching the full length of the wall. It was crammed with a handful of men and tons of women. All dressed to kill, willing to battle it out for a beer or martini.

  I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed. The Kitty Kat looked like every other club. Low lights, blaring music meant to prevent meaningful conversation, and a miniscule sitting area. Oh, and plenty of drunks.

  Kendall chatted up our fellow partiers, inching us closer to the front of the line. Finally, we ordered our drinks and were ready for the show.

  “Where’s the best place to sit?” I shouted at Kendall.

  “Right up front, honey.” He pointed toward the stage straight ahead.

  I’d totally missed it. In my mind, the stage should be larger. In reality, it was barely six feet wide, framed by blue velvet curtains. I tipped the bartender a few bucks, then we made our way toward the stage.

  Once again, we followed Kendall. There were a handful of empty tables left. We claimed the closest to the stage.

  “It doesn’t look any different than the bars in Nebraska.” Darby’s blonde curls bobbed as she looked around. “It’s really loud,” she shouted. Darby hadn’t drank an ounce of her rum and Diet Coke.

  “Did you bring your dollars?” Kend
all sipped delicately on his champagne cocktail.

  “Sure did. Why do we need them?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” Kendall’s lip-glossed smile spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E.

  I drank my dirty martini as I watched a boisterous bachelorette party crank up the fun with Jell-O shots.

  At exactly eleven o’clock, the lights dimmed and the music climaxed. Spotlights flashed the audience. Black spots danced before my eyes.

  A faceless voice boomed from the speakers. “Are you ready to be swept away by the queens of the night?”

  The mob roared in response. If I looked half as terrified as Darby, we were in some serious trouble.

  “Give it up for . . . Miss . . . Bea . . . Haven.”

  The screaming crowd rushed the stage like a Longhorn steer stampede. Was there a fire? My heart pounded in time to the music.

  The curtains parted, and Jennifer Hudson’s doppelganger appeared. I swear on my family’s good name she looked right at me and smiled. Jennifer glided from one end of the stage to the other, lip-syncing perfectly to “Love You I Do,” from the movie Dreamgirls.

  Her silver and black beaded gown shimmered in the light, casting a spell on the audience. She stretched her arms toward the crowd, accepting (or encouraging, depending on your point of view) countless dollar bills thrust in her direction.

  “I thought these were men?” Darby looked confused.

  “They are,” Kendall patted her arm. He whipped out a five from his wallet, answering the siren call. “Isn’t she delicious?” He waved his money in the air as he shimmed toward the edge of stage.

  Each time Jennifer accepted money, she air-kissed her admirer’s face. The crowd ate it up, begging for more.

  “That is not a man,” Darby argued. She removed the straw from her glass and gulped her cocktail. Her eyes watered. “Mel, those are real breasts.”

  I shook my head. I’d seen enough chicken cutlets in my day to know even the best breast can be faked. “I don’t think so. His . . . ah . . . her makeup is perfect, though. If he didn’t have an Adam’s apple, I would have never known he isn’t a woman.”

  This was Dr. O’Doggle’s secret life?

  Maybe Tova had a motive to kill her boyfriend after all. She didn’t strike me as a woman willing to share the spotlight with a female impersonator. I doubted she could handle the competition. After all, he was cheating on Tova.

  With himself.

  THE SHOW LASTED little more than an hour. The highlight was when Cher emerged from behind the curtain in her iconic black feather headdress and slayed the crowd with her rendition of If I Could Turn Back Time. Buzzed, Darby had yanked a dollar from her wallet and shoved her way to the stage. She’d even managed to evade the required butt slap from the drunk dude up front. Sometime after Cher’s air kiss, Darby switched to water. Probably a good idea.

  The lights were back to I-think-you’re-sexy-but-I-can’t-see-you- clearly-to-know-for-sure, and the music had been toned down to a decibel where conversation was somewhat possible. Needless to say, I had a bucket full of questions, including a few about Dr. O’Doggle.

  “Do you know how much skill it takes to look that good?” I asked Darby and Kendall. “We all know some women who could take a lesson from these guys.”

  “No, no, no. When they are in drag, they are ladies,” Kendall explained.

  Darby clutched a half-full bottle of water. “I still can’t believe they were all men. Are you certain?”

  Kendall smiled, pleased with our reaction to the show. “Positive.”

  “Even the one wearing the electric blue cat suit?” she asked.

  He nodded. “All of them.” Kendall explained the proper way to “tuck.”

  Darby shook her head. “Amazing.”

  “They’ll come and mingle with us in a few minutes.” His Latin accent thickened the more he drank. “Do you want to meet a special one?” he asked Darby. “Cher, maybe?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Is La-ah here?” I asked, finally remembering the reason we were there in the first place.

  Kendall shot me a funny look, but before he could answer, the drag queens started to appear. Each one had changed into new costumes. I couldn’t recall a time I’d seen so much spandex and glitter, evening gowns, boas, and elbow-length gloves. Cat suits and go-go boots floated throughout the room. Each queen wore glitter on her face. Eyelids, lips, cheeks. It felt like a pixie dust party.

  The High Priestess of drag queens paraded toward our table in her black spandex cat suit and cape. Her body was amazing. Her fiery red wig was striking. The closer she drifted to our table, I could see her mocha skin glistening with perspiration.

  I was fascinated with her makeup. Singular swipes of dark blush emphasized high cheekbones. Dramatic blue-green eye shadow enhanced her black eyes. The exaggerated strokes took a trained, steady hand. She was good. And judging by the predatory look on her face, she knew it.

  “Kendall,” she cooed in a surprisingly feminine voice. Dark lip liner drew attention to her full lips, to which she’d applied glitter gloss.

  Could she be the owner of the mysterious lip gloss Gwen had found?

  “Introduce me to your friends.” She batted caterpillar lashes as she dragged her fingers through his hair.

  He swatted her hand away good-naturedly. “Don’t be naughty. Melinda, Darby, this is Goldie Fawn. Goldie brings her Chihuahua, Miss Kitty, to Divine Spa.”

  “The show was very entertaining,” Darby said.

  “Thank you, dah-ling. I’m thrilled you enjoyed yourself.” She pointed a deadly gold fingernail in my direction. “You look very familiar. Where do I know you from?”

  Since he—she—had a dog, I went with the obvious. “I own Bow Wow Boutique.”

  Her plump smile faltered. “That’s right. I bought Miss Kitty’s new green lead from you.”

  Darby’s head whipped in my direction faster than the Linda Blair scene in The Exorcist. I kicked her under the table.

  “You must have paid cash. I’m sure I would have remembered you,” I said with a smile.

  Her laugh was definitely male. “I don’t wear drag in the daytime. It’s a little scary, even for me. Ladies, it was decent meeting you.”

  Decent? Did she just insult us?

  Kendall grabbed a handful of her cape. “Where’s Ladasha? Melinda wanted to meet her.”

  I’d been pronouncing the name wrong. La—ah was Ladasaha.

  Goldie pinned me with her peacock eyes. “Why?”

  It would take more than a good smoky eye to intimidate me. “I heard she performed with Jackie O.”

  “You know Jackie? Are you a friend?” All pretenses of femininity evaporated.

  “Would that be a bad thing?”

  “I don’t like that bitch. She thought she was better than us. So, yes, it would.”

  Kendall stood. “I’m sure Melinda didn’t mean to upset you.”

  There were times the direct approach was best. This was one of those times. “Jackie O was murdered. Darby and I found her in front of my boutique. We just wanted to ask Ladasha some questions.”

  “Move over.” Goldie shoved Kendall aside and stole his seat. “What are you talking about?”

  I opened my clutch and pulled out the clipping we’d found. “This is her, right?”

  She neither denied nor confirmed. Instead, she scorched me with her stare. “I haven’t heard anything about a dead drag queen.”

  “When we found her, she was a he. Dr. Jack O’Doggle, the plastic surgeon. Do you know of anyone who wanted to hurt him? Her?” Now I was confused.

  Kendall on the other hand was about to have a meltdown. “I did not know. I promise.” Sweat seeped through his shirt.

  Goldie stood. “Don’t move.” She sashayed away.

  “You tricked me. Why would you do that?” Kendall wailed.

  Good grief, he was an emotional mess. “We didn’t trick you. We didn’t know about Dr. O’Doggle’s other persona until six hours ago
. I wasn’t even sure I believed it completely. Until now.”

  Kendall rubbed his face. “What have you done?”

  Within minutes, Goldie Fawn came back flanked by Jennifer Hudson and Cher. A drag queen gang? “Come with us,” Goldie ordered.

  Darby said quickly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her blue eyes were huge.

  “Neither do I.” Damn. I was wearing four-inch heels, hardly the right shoes for fighting or running. “I didn’t come here to cause problems.”

  Goldie pointed at Jennifer. “This is Jackie O’s drag mama. And she”—Goldie pointed at Cher—“is Ladasha.”

  I’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Drag mama? “O-kay. We can’t talk out here?” Where there are a hundred witnesses? I didn’t care if I had to strain to hear. We were safe in the open.

  Jennifer said grimly, “We could whoop your skinny ass here and no one would stop us. In fact, most of these people would help. We”—she swept the room with an arm—“are a family. If you want answers, you’ll come with us.” Jennifer’s soft voice brooked no argument. It was her way or not at all.

  Okay then. Guess I was about to be educated.

  Chapter Fifteen

  KENDALL BAILED. Something about not leaving his Pomeranian, Guido, an orphan. The bartender called him a cab, and off he went. Honestly, I was relieved. I couldn’t concentrate during his hysterics.

  We didn’t go far. Down the hall, to the right, and into a private room. The air was stale and smelled like day-old beer. The only place to sit was a loveseat that should’ve been tossed to the curb three decades ago.

  Darby and I sat side-by-side. No sense in dragging it out. Pun intended.

  “Did Jackie ever explain why she decided to become a drag queen?” I asked as delicately as possible. I tried to show respect for a community I didn’t understand.

  Bea Haven hovered over us. The feathers from her boa tickled my nose. “Normally, I have a drink in my hand before an interrogation.”

  “Normally, I’m threatened with jail,” I muttered. Darby elbowed me. “What? It’s true.”