Vamps, Villains and Vaudeville

by Ellen Mansoor Collier

  “I think it’s from a violin or viola,” I stammered. “My fingerprints are probably all over the string, but I’m not guilty, promise.”

  “I doubt we can remove fingerprints from a thin steel string.” The captain chuckled. “Sure would make our jobs a lot easier. So tell me, where’d you find it? By the body?”

  “Not far. You know, in the alley.” I looked away, not meeting his curious gaze.

  “The alley?” Johnson studied the string in the light. “Appears to have some blood residue which confirms our suspicions. Why didn’t you give it to the coroner at the crime scene? He determined the murder weapon most likely was a violin string—and this proves his theory.”

  Was he trying to trick me? “I wanted to, but I..I..didn’t have it with me.”

  Captain Johnson tilted his head, alert, like a dog perking up at a fire engine. “But I thought you found it at the crime scene? The alley behind Martini Theatre, right?”

  “I found it in an alley, yes.” I squirmed in my chair, my face starting to perspire. Now I knew why they called it the hot seat. “Near Market Street.”

  “And pray tell, what were you doing on Market Street, digging around in a back alley?” His once-warm brown eyes turned dull as dirt.

  “I was just...helping someone. A friend lost something, and I was looking for it.”

  “It? What’s it? Which friend? The suspect?” Johnson’s brows shot up. “Tell the truth, Miss Cross: Did you witness the crime? Did you see the killer’s face? If so, why are you protecting him? Don’t you want to help solve this case, and try to clear your friend?”

  “Yes, I do. But I know he didn’t do it. He was just trying to save his...business.”

  Johnson leaned forward, clasping his hands. “He—who’s he? How did he get involved? Doesn’t he realize that it’s against the law to move a dead body, not to mention tamper with a crime scene?”

  Nervous, I glanced at Burton for help, but he just sat there, motionless and mute. What a pal.

  “He wasn’t thinking straight at the time. He was so shocked, he panicked.”

  “I see. And does this new friend have a name?”

  When I didn’t reply, Captain Johnson gestured for Burton and whispered in his ear, hand by his mouth. Then they glanced at me with concern. What now?

  Agent Burton stood up to leave when the phone rang on the captain’s desk. “On the victim?” Johnson blinked a few times, listening intently. Then he slowly put down the phone, eyes wide in surprise, his cheeks red.

  “Well, doesn’t that beat all. That was the coroner’s office. I think we may have a new motive for murder. They found something unusual during the exam.”

  “A weapon? A fresh wound?” Burton sat up.

  “A diamond ring, like a wedding band.”

  “A ladies’ ring?” Burton frowned. “We didn’t see him wearing a ring. Where was it?”

  “In his..personal effects...under his clothing.” Johnson cupped his hands over his chest and shook them in front.

  Seems he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. “You mean he was wearing a brassiere?” I piped up.

  The captain’s face flushed a bright pink. “Yes, a rather large one, they said. It appears he was hiding the ring...in his br-br-br...his lingerie.”

  “A large diamond or brassiere?” I tried to hide my smile, enjoying seeing the captain blush.

  “Both, apparently. Our victim was not a small man.”

  Burton caught my eye. “Are you thinking the same thing?”

  “Seems like a lot of theft is going around.” I nodded. “Remember the purse snatcher at Mario’s restaurant? Do you think the crimes may be related...?”

  Burton picked up where I left off. “Perhaps Patrick was also a part-time jewel thief?”

  ******

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “A jewel thief?” Captain Johnson stroked his chin. “Very possible. I understand the acting profession doesn’t pay well, unless you’re in the movies.”

  “So I hear.” A sore subject. If Derek hadn’t left for Hollywood, then he wouldn’t be in this predicament. “By the way, did you search Derek after you arrested him?”

  “Yes, we patted him down for weapons.” The captain frowned. “What are you getting at, Miss Cross?”

  “Why not search Derek now, while he’s here? See if any jewelry turns up?” I glanced at my watch, hoping to God that Derek wasn’t involved. “He’s got a show tonight at seven. If he’s clean, then maybe you can let him go. That way, he can work undercover and help you find the real killer.”

  Johnson pounded his desk. “Young lady, don’t tell me how to do my job!”

  Why not, if I helped solve the case? Sadly, Johnson failed to appreciate my bright ideas.

  “Captain, I think she has a good point.” Burton stood up, arms crossed. “We both know you can’t keep him here without hard evidence. Like Jasmine says, Derek may serve as an asset in this investigation since he’s on the inside.”

  Captain Johnson looked skeptical. “How can we be sure the killer is an actor or a musician in the troupe? May be a random killing or even an accident.”

  “We don’t know yet, but he can help eliminate that possibility,” said Burton.

  “I don’t want to put a civilian at risk.” Johnson frowned. “May be too dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry about Derek,” I cut in. “After all, he’s a good actor, as Burton knows. If anyone gets suspicious, I’m sure he can talk his way out of a jam.”

  “You can release Derek into my custody temporarily,” Burton offered. “I’ll be glad to drop him off at the Martini Theatre in time for his performance tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I gave Burton a grateful look. “I know he’ll be relieved.”

  Johnson stared out the window, as if waiting for a sign. “OK, Burton, make sure he’s willing to cooperate. Glad we’ve got that settled. But now we don’t have a prime suspect.” Then he leaned forward, hands clasped like a preacher. “Let me ask you again, little lady. Where exactly did you find this violin string?”

  Swell—now what mess had I gotten us into? If I did reveal Sammy’s name, he’d likely become a second suspect—but wouldn’t that help clear Derek? If I kept quiet, Burton might spill the beans. Chances were, they’d eventually find out the truth anyway. Damn, what to do?

  I glanced at Burton for help, afraid to say anything.

  “Young lady, do I need to remind you that if you’re withholding valuable information, you’re considered an accessory to murder?” The captain slapped his hand on the desk. “At the very least, you’d be guilty of aiding and abetting a killer.”

  “What? I’m not aiding and abetting anyone! Sammy is not a killer!” I blurted out.

  Wow, those scare tactics really worked.

  The captain smirked. “Sammy who?”

  I heaved a sigh. “Sammy Cook. He owns the Oasis on Market Street. They stumbled across the body by accident.”

  “You don’t say.” He sat up straighter. “By accident? Are you sure?”

  “If you must know, I was there.”

  Not only was I digging Sammy’s grave, I was digging mine right next to his. All I needed was a shovel. Maybe my big mouth would fill the bill.

  “And you thought to tell me this now?”

  “You didn’t ask.” I smiled, trying hard not to look like an accomplice.

  Captain Johnson stared at Burton in exasperation. “If that’s true, then why did your friend move the body? Seems very suspicious.”

  Oh, boy. “Clearly he overreacted. He’s been in trouble with the law before and wanted to avoid any problems. Sammy has no motive, no reason to kill anyone. In fact, he recently moved to Houston to get away from the gangs.”

  Burton finally spoke up. “Sir, I can vouch for his character. Cook is a decent man, trying to make a living. He proved instrumental in helping me get some bad hooch off the streets last summer.”

  “Yes, I know all about your friendship with Mr. Samm
y Cook.” The captain thrust his chin at Burton. “Weren’t you instrumental in helping him escape to Houston?”

  “I needed a statement from him to build a case against Johnny Jack Nounes.” Burton remained calm. “I had to protect my main witness.”

  “Is that so? Meanwhile, Johnny Jack disappeared with several cases of rum, right? Did you have any luck in tracking him down?”

  “Captain, you know how Nounes operates. He pays several influential friends in high places to protect him.” Burton gave a frustrated sigh. “It’s a long process.”

  Johnson nodded. “I know it’s not your department, Agent Burton, but since you’re such good friends with Sammy Cook, why don’t you bring him downtown for questioning? The sooner we clear this up, the better.”

  “What? Why?” I felt like crying out for the hundredth time, He’s not guilty!

  Burton shifted in his seat. “I’d rather not, sir. He’s an invaluable source of information and I don’t want to lose his trust.”

  “Fine. Then ask Vernon to fetch him. He knows where all the bars are on Market Street.”

  “Yes, sir.” Burton gave me an apologetic look before he left, presumably to find Vernon.

  “Why don’t you come with me, Miss Cross?” The captain stood up and held open the door. “You can tell the suspect—Mr. Hammond—that he’s free to go for now, on one condition.”

  “Great.” I tried to muster up some enthusiasm as Johnson led me to Derek’s cell, but I felt guilty about Sammy—and mad at myself. In my efforts to help Derek, I’d inadvertently incriminated my own brother. Damn it, why’d I even give them the violin string at all?

  Wild-eyed, Derek paced back and forth in his jail cell, and perked up when we approached.

  “Young man, do you know anything about some stolen jewelry?” The captain wasted no time getting to the point. “Specifically a diamond ring?”

  “No, why?” Derek frowned, glancing at me.

  “Mind if we search your person?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “Sorry, son. We have to do it even if you do mind.” Johnson unlocked the cell and signaled for an officer, instructing him to take Derek to a private room.

  Derek covered his chest. “Is this really necessary?”

  He nodded. “Ask your girlfriend. It was all her idea.”

  Girlfriend? Gee, thanks. Happy to help.

  Derek scowled at me as they headed down a back hall, prodded by a burly cop.

  As I waited in Burton’s office, I twirled the buttons on my frock, hoping Derek wouldn’t blow his top. Finally he returned and sat down, half-leaning his chair on the window sill. “Sorry about Sammy. Glad I didn’t have to retrieve him myself. Sammy will think I fingered him.”

  “You? He’ll be so mad, I doubt he’ll ever forgive me.” I turned to survey the half-empty police station. “I hope the cops don’t razz him or get rough. What’s Vernon like?”

  “He’s a good egg. Spends too much time in the bars, on and off-duty. I’m sure he can convince Sammy to come here peacefully.”

  “I hope Sammy will understand.” I let out a sigh. “Now I wish I’d never found that damn violin string.”

  “If you and Sammy cooperate with the authorities, that will only win points with the captain.” Burton grinned. “Johnson was certain we’d caught the killer and you managed to convince him otherwise. Where is Derek by the way?”

  “He’s undergoing a thorough body search for stolen jewelry.” I grimaced. “Worse, the captain told Derek it was my brilliant idea. Now he’ll think I suspect him too!”

  “Derek doesn’t strike me as a killer.” Burton shrugged. “In fact, at first I thought he was a pretty boy. A dandy.”

  “Who are you calling a dandy?” Derek charged into the office, dark eyes on fire. “Hey, Jazz, thanks for offering up my body for inspection. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”

  I avoided his gaze. “I was only trying to help. At least you got out in time for your show.”

  “Well, next time don’t bother,” he huffed. “I’d rather be stuck in here than frisked and examined like a common criminal. In the buff, I might add.”

  What a picture! I suppressed a smile as I imagined a nude Derek fighting off the cops.

  “Quit bickering, children.” Burton seemed amused. “Time to go.”

  Ignoring the cops’ stares, Derek kept his head down and clutched his jacket tight as we headed out of the station. Burton held the door open for me and I stopped short when I ran into Sammy, followed by a forlorn Frank, both in handcuffs.

  ******

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “What are you doing here?” Sammy’s eyes darted back and forth between me and Agent Burton. “Ratting me out?” The betrayed look on his face made my heart break.

  “Bunk!” I replied. “I had some...evidence to turn in.”

  “Evidence that incriminates me, huh?” He tilted his head toward Frank. “Both of us?”

  “Just the opposite. We’re trying to help.”

  “Move along.” The cop shoved Sammy ahead. “No time for chit-chat. Captain’s orders.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Burton told the cop. “Easy, Vernon. Let go of this man. He’s done nothing wrong.”

  “Says you,” Vernon taunted.

  I wanted to slap his smug smile. Derek and I watched as they led Sammy and Frank to the captain’s office. Stone-faced, Burton trailed behind, and pushed his way inside, telling Vernon, “Remove those handcuffs.”

  After Vernon obeyed, he turned to Derek. “Lucky break for you, kid.”

  Hoping to eavesdrop, I tried to follow Burton into the office, but Vernon blocked me, pointing at the door. “Exit’s that way.” What did he think I was, a rabble-rouser?

  Outside, Derek looked puzzled. “What’s the rumpus?”

  After I explained, he said, “You found a violin string? So that’s why you asked if I played a string instrument.”

  “May be the murder weapon.” I looked around the area. “Do you think a musician in the troupe murdered Patrick? Or is the killer trying to implicate someone from the orchestra?”

  “Possible on both counts. Depends on the motive.” Derek’s dark eyes had that far-away look, drifting off to his own private thoughts.

  “Do you have any ideas? Are you sure Patrick wasn’t swiping jewelry on the side?”

  “He’s not a thief,” Derek insisted. “Say, why did the cops pat me down—again? I had to strip off to my knickers and let me tell you, in this cold weather, it wasn’t a pretty sight.”

  It? I stifled a smile. “Sorry. I wanted to prove you were innocent—and it worked.”

  “Innocent of what? I had to show my goods to a couple of asshole cops in a police station? Not my idea of making whoopee.”

  I laughed out loud. “You’re out of jail, aren’t you?”

  “You think it’s funny?” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the gag?”

  Derek sounded so agitated, I sobered up, fast. “Don’t tell anyone in the troupe, promise? They found a diamond ring in Patrick’s brassiere...under his frock.”

  “Patrick had on a brassiere? With a diamond ring?” His voice rose a few octaves. “Now I’ve heard everything. I can understand wearing women’s clothes for a part, but a brassiere to boot?” He slapped his forehead. “What’s so special about this ring? Who did it belong to?”

  “Who knows? But it proves that Patrick was lifting baubles on the side.”

  “Maybe he hid it there for safekeeping.”

  “Obviously.” I blinked. “So if he’s not a jewel thief, what did he do to wind up dead in an alley?”

  Derek leaned in, his face dangerously close to mine. A dark lock of hair tickled his forehead, and I resisted the urge to smooth it back into place. “I’ve heard rumors about the musicians...But this is just between us. No press.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  He clammed up when Burton burst through the door, sans S
ammy or Frank.

  “Sorry to interrupt your clambake.” Burton shot Derek a cold stare as he got into his Roadster. “Come on, let’s go. Don’t you need a ride to the Martini Theatre?”

  Ignoring his crack, I asked Burton, “What happened to Sammy and Frank?”

  “The captain said it’s a formality, that they have to interview everyone involved.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “If anything, the violin string lets those two mugs off the hook. When was the last time you saw Sammy or Frank playing the violin?”

  I smiled to myself, relieved. “Where are they?”

  “The captain put them in a holding cell for a while. If the real killer thinks the suspects are in custody, he might blab to the wrong people. He’s hoping Derek can provide some information.” Burton nodded at Derek. “That’s where you come in, sport.”

  “What do you mean? You expect me to get Sammy and Frank released?” Derek gulped.

  “Think you’re up to the task? You know how much Sammy means to Jasmine.” Burton glared at Derek, then got in his car, slammed the door and gunned his engine.

  “I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Sammy before today.” Derek tapped my shoulder from the back seat. “Are you two related?”

  How did he know? Burton nudged me, warning me to keep quiet, as if I needed reminding. “He’s a family friend.” I gave him my standard line, not wanting to complicate matters. Derek had left town right before my father died, when I found out Sammy was my half-brother.

  “I’ll do my best. For both our sakes.” Derek drew a dramatic breath, his head held high. “After all, the show must go on.”

  Corny, but true. Was he waiting for our applause?

  After Burton parked at Martini Theatre, I stood with Derek by the Roadster. Burton refused to drive a simple squad car, claiming he’d blend in better with bootleggers by driving a fancy Ford. No doubt he was right. So who was picking up the tab?