by Tonya Kappes
“Sounds like an inside job to me. What about the parents? They are always in and out of that school.” Abby made a good observation.
“I can check the school log in the morning to see if any of the archery parents came, but Hank said that he already talked to the Pattersons. During the time of the murder, Sam Patterson, the son, and Beth Lambert were taking a test to transfer to a different school. Beth was in my class and Sam was the office aide when Orlando was killed, so they both have alibis, even though both have reason to kill Scott. But Orlando?”
The more I talked, the more the idea that Orlando was killed over something he knew made sense.
“Orlando knew a lot of things and Adrienne said she went to see him about something he knew about her husband’s death. He told her to bring him five hundred dollars for information the first time she showed up at school. When she came back in the afternoon, she only had two-hundred and fifty dollars, he told her it wasn’t enough and to come back when she had the rest.”
“Awful man!” Queenie snarled.
“It’s still no reason for someone to kill him.” Betts always saw a different side to everything.
“Hank did say Orlando lived a very basic life. He had very few things in his place.” I added to the conversation.
“Then what was he going to do with the money he was blackmailing Adrienne for?” Abby asked.
“Obviously, Orlando didn’t spend much time at home. We do know that he was at school for most of the day and his night was spent at Lypsnk, then maybe we need to look deeper into Lypsnk to see if he’d met someone there or something.” Queenie suggested and looked at her watch. “It seems to be that right now is a great time to go.”
“Anyone got a little Gloria Gaynor in them?” Dottie snuffed out her cigarette. “A little I Will Survive just might be what we all need.”
TWELVE
Lypsnk was nothing like I thought it would be. Neither was Swamp Canal. They were both much bigger than I expected.
Swamp Canal actually had a few buildings with some height. I wouldn’t call them skyscrapers, but several tall buildings dotted the skyline. It was a nice sized city with several independent restaurants, but mostly the chain ones found in every city. Lypsnk was one of many bars. A mural of vibrantly colored lips and microphones had been painted on the outside brick wall. There was a man sitting on a stool outside of the blacked out glass doors checking IDs for the over twenty-one bar.
“Welcome to the Swamp Canal crawl.” He used the flashlight to look at my license. “Mae West, really?” He shined the light between me and my ID a few times. “You don’t look like Mae West, but you do look over twenty-one.”
“It is me and my name is Mae West.” I jerked the license back, unsure if he had just insulted me by saying I was old.
“Go on in.” He waved all us in.
The hallway was painted black, but the same mural on the outside of the building had been painted on the inside but with iridescent paint, making it stand out and glow. There were purple lights everywhere and flashing all around. The howl of what sounded like a sick cat got louder and louder as we got to the main section of the bar where someone was on the stage, trying to belt out some song I didn’t even recognize.
“Booth, bar, or room, ladies?” the young woman dressed in a red cat suit and cat ears stood at the end of the hallway. Her face was painted white and there were diamond jewels around her eyes and down her nose where the painted on cat whiskers started.
“What’s the difference?” I asked, trying to get a better idea where we could not only talk, but make a plan to see who we needed to talk to about Orlando and his actions here.
“The booth is out there in the open. Drinks are served by various waitresses, and you have to pay attention to the screen to see when it’s your turn to sing. The bar, well, just sit at the bar. And the rooms are private, and you get to practice your singing as well as have a private waitress.”
“We’ll take the room,” Abby said and pushed her way to the front, making the decision for us.
“It’ll be fifty dollars.” She pointed to the sign. “We take cash only.”
“Ante up, ladies.” I turned around and stuck my hand out as we all dug into our purses to get the money we needed.
After we gave her the cash, we followed her across the main floor and down another hallway where she opened a door with a couch that ran along the entire wall.
“You’ll be attended to shortly.” She shut the door behind her.
“This is nuts.” I went over and stepped up on the mini stage with the microphone and TV behind me. There was a little sound system with directions on which buttons to push to order up a song to perform to the private group.
“Good evening, ladies.” The TV popped on and there was a man talking to us. “I’m Bo. What drink can I start you off with tonight?”
“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Abby waved at him.
“I’ll have a water.” Betts seemed a little uneasy as she sat down on the couch with her purse hugged against her.
“Heck, I’ll have me four fingers of bourbon on the rocks.” Dottie lifted four fingers in the air.
“My kinda gal.” He winked and smiled.
“I’ll have whatever you’ve got on tap.” Not that I wanted to drink, but maybe a little sip would do me good if I was going to have to sing.
“Coming right up!” He danced on screen to the music playing through the TV before he disappeared again.
“Who’s up first?” Dottie was already on her feet.
“You look like you are.” I plucked the microphone off the stand and gave her the book that was labeled songs. “You tell me the song number and I’ll be the DJ.”
Dottie took the book and started to thumb through it.
“This would be a lot of fun for a private party.” Betts got up off the couch and seemed to be letting loose a little. “I’ve never been to something like this and it’s nice and private. Not everyone staring at you.”
I couldn’t help but think what she said had deeper meaning. It was hard to go through something so public like she’d just done with Lester and not feel like everyone in town was either judging you or keeping a close eye on you to see what your next move was.
“Then you can sing next.” I wiggled my shoulders and shook my hips.
“I’ll do number thirty one.” Dottie put the book down and flipped the button on the microphone on. “Testing, one, two.” Her lips were practically touching the thing.
I punched in the number and YMCA by the Village People popped up on the screen.
“We can all sing!” Dottie was so good about getting everyone involved.
All of us started to dance around in our own private room like we’d do at the Laundry Club since no one was watching, at least we didn’t think they were, and we each took a turn with the microphone singing part of the song.
We all fell on the couch in a giggle fit as part of the ceiling opened up above us. We jumped off the couch to avoid whatever it was coming out of the ceiling.
“Ladies, your drinks have arrived.” The man came back on the TV and this round tray on a cable slowly came down from the ceiling with our drinks on it. “Are there any appetizers I can get you?”
We tiptoed back over to the couch and looked at the tray.
“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” Abby couldn’t resist. She snapped a photo and immediately started hash tagging every word, throwing it up on social media.
All of us stood there looking down.
“Ladies?” He trilled through the TV. “This is much better than the YMCA,” he teased.
“Wait! You saw that?” Betts jerked around.
“Not just me, ladies. The entire bar!” He winked and the TV switched to a view of the main bar where there was a wall of TVs that were numbered with the private room numbers. Our performance was on auto play.
“I’m gonna need something strong than a water.” Betts snapped her fingers and we all laughed.
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“Listen, Bo. We need to see someone in here.” I knew we wouldn’t get anywhere with our questions about Orlando unless we talked to somebody in person.
“Sure thing, doll.” The screen went blank.
While we waited for someone to come to our private room, we laughed about the performance and enjoyed sipping our drinks.
“Bo said you’d like to see someone. Is there anything wrong, ladies?” The woman from the hallway that showed us to our room had come into the private room.
“Yeah.” Queenie grabbed her phone. Abby grabbed the notebook. “We are wondering if you ever saw this guy?”
“Orlando. Yeah. He’s usually here, but not tonight.” Her brows furrowed like she just realized he’d not shown up. “Actually, that really odd since he’s in the big contest.”
“What contest?” I asked, nudging Abby to write it down.
“The big karaoke contest where he can win five thousand dollars.” Her voice rose as she said the dollar amount. “He’s even been taking voice lessons.”
“Maybe that’s why he needed the money from Adrienne.” Abby shrugged and wrote it down. “It’s worth noting.”
“Can we get a list of people who entered the contest?” Betts asked. “One of them could be tied to the school or maybe the two murders are unrelated.”
“Murders?” The woman asked in a shaky voice. “Orlando murdered someone?”
“No, sugar, he was murdered,” Dottie’s words made the poor girl’s face go white as a ghost, almost making it glow like the rest of the white stuff in the building.
“Are you the cops or something?” she asked. “Because I can get a manager if I need to.”
“We are good friends of Orlando’s and we’re trying to bring his killer to justice.” Queenie lifted a fist in solidarity.
“Do you mind answering a few questions for us?” I asked.
“Not at all.” She eased down on the couch, still looking like she was in shock. “I’m not sure if I can help, but he was a really nice guy.”
“Was he ever here with anyone?” I asked and motioned for Abby to write that down in the notebook.
“He had various private rooms so I’m not sure, but there were a few people. A woman came on several occasions. There was a guy last week. And maybe another guy a few times. But mainly he was in the main bar, working on his songs.” She blinked a few times.
“She came here earlier, but no one knew Orlando.” I pointed to Queenie.
“The day staff is different than the night staff.” She told us, “Orlando came at night. Almost every night,” she repeated herself from earlier, making me believe she was having a hard time processing the news of his death.
“Was this guy one of them?” Queenie showed her the photo on her phone of Scott Goodman.
“He was here last week. I remember because Orlando tried to get him to sing and they actually got into a fight. That guy has a temper.” Her words connected the two of them outside of school. “Orlando said the guy was a bully.”
“What did he mean by that?” I asked, wanting her to elaborate.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything else. Our bouncer kicked the dude out.” She looked down at her fingers. “Do they have any idea why someone killed him?”
“No, but the video screens.” I pointed back towards the TV. “Do they keep the footage? Maybe show the others with him?”
“No. Everything here is live, and everything is paid for in cash. So there’s no tracing who comes in and out of here. But we have a ton of regulars, like Orlando is… was.” She stood up. “I have to get back to work. Please, let me know if I can help in any other way. I’m not sure how, but he was a really nice guy.”
“Thanks.” Our mood suddenly took a dive south, taking the song right out of us.
THIRTEEN
“You agreed to be the eyes and ears of the school.” Hank threw it back in my face that I wasn’t going to the memorial service. “That means go to everything the school is having, including the memorial service for not one, but two employees.”
“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?” I asked Hank while keeping an eye on the GPS directions on my phone. I was on my way to meet Betts after a good night’s sleep.
“Mae, nine out of ten times a killer returns to the scene of the crime in one way or another. They want to blend in and see if anyone is saying anything. They try to find out if anyone is onto them or maybe get a thrill out of being right there in the public view, but you aren’t there to listen and look like you said you would.” Now there was no doubt in my mind that he was mad.
“It’s not like I’m doing something that doesn’t have to do with the case.” I turned down a street that was one block over from Lypsnk, the place we were the night before. “I just pulled into the parking lot of the counseling office of Alena Russel in Swamp Canal.”
“Why are you there? Do you have an appointment?” he asked. “Isn’t she at the school?”
“She is at the school for the memorial. She asked Betts to clean her office today. Apparently, she splits her time between her personal and school clients.” I noticed Betts’s cleaning van was already there.
“You’re going to clean?” He asked flatly.
“No. I’m going to snoop and see what she has in her files about Scott Goodman. Adrienne Goodman seemed to think something more than angry parents was going on with Scott. I told you what she said about them going to counseling and I just want to know if he said something during the counseling sessions that confirms Orlando knew something.”
There was a long pause. Long enough for me to turn the car off, grab my bag with my notebook in it, and get out of the car.
“That’s illegal, and if you find something, it won’t be able to be used in court.” Such a pessimist.
“No. But you’ll be able to get a subpoena.” I opted to take Betts’s bright side approach. “Besides, I’m going to the reception tomorrow for them.”
There was a memorial today at the school with counselors, that’s why Alena was there all day, but tomorrow they were having a lunch reception where the Normal Baptist church bible thumpers bring all their homemade casseroles.
“You’re the best, Mae.” That made him happy. “Let me know what you find in the office.”
“Even if it’s illegal?” I asked.
“Not if you tell me I need a subpoena.” I liked how he thought. “Call me when you leave.”
We said our goodbyes and I walked into the building, opting out of the elevator to take the stairs to the second floor. Betts was waiting for me outside of the office door that had Alena’s name on it. She had a bucket with cleaning supplies and a vacuum.
“You look like a cat burglar.” She looked me up and down.
“Black on black makes me feel the part.” I drew my hands down myself, as if I were modeling. “I don’t plan on getting dusty like you.”
“It’s pretty easy to clean here.” She unlocked the door, pushing it open. “I’ll let you snoop. But you’ve got to empty the trash cans and take the garbage out to the dumpster. I’ll do the rest.” She dangled the keys in front of me, pointing to one specifically. “I’m going to unlock the room where the files are located just in case there’s a trash can in there.”
Instead of telling me directly to go in there and look, she did it on the sly, which protected her if Alena or anybody else caught me.
“Deal.” I grabbed the box of Hefty garbage bags out of her bucket and ripped one off the perforated seams before I walked around the office to find all the trash cans.
Betts had turned on the music, grabbed her feather duster, and got down to it while I found my way around the office, noting where the files where and getting all the trash cans emptied so I could get to snooping.
There wasn’t much trash in my garbage bag, and I’d emptied all the cans. It was odd. I imagine Alena had used the computer more than paper. The only room left was the files room where Alena’s printer, shredder, fax, coffee maker, and mini-frig
were located.
“You saucy girl.” I couldn’t help but look in the frig where there was an open bottle of wine and a half eaten block of cheese.
Her files were in a long credenza. When I opened the drawer, they were filed in alphabetical order by last name.
“G, g, g, Goodman.” My fingers dragged down the file tabs. “Goodman.” I smiled when I saw the name neatly typed. I jerked the file out and took a seat on the floor in front of the credenza.
I flipped through the file, finding all the typical paperwork necessary to file insurance claim with the insurance company, employment history, personal things like why they are seeking treatment. When I read through it, there was nothing new from what Adrienne had mentioned. She was having a hard time with his affair and his temper. He was having a hard time trying to prove to her he wasn’t going to cheat again. It seemed like he wanted more in his life than just being a teacher and coach, but nothing specific was written down. I read into it the fact Adrienne had told me he wanted to further his education.
“Is that it?” I went through the files one more time. My eyes scanned the pages. Nothing. I looked around the room and noticed there were some cords on the floor that were plugged into the power outlet, but there was nothing on the other end.
“Laptop,” I wondered out loud as I realized that I had not seen an office, which made me think she used this room as an office and probably kept client notes on a laptop she took with her.
I returned the file back into its place in the credenza, turned the lights out, shut the door behind me and locked it.
“You don’t look satisfied.” Betts looked up. She was on her knees, running a rag along the baseboard in the waiting room. She had the faux leather chairs, magazine rack, and standing lamps pulled out into the middle of the room.
“Nothing.” I dropped the bag of trash and scratched my head. “I think she must keep everything on her laptop.”
“Did you empty all the trash cans?” She crawled over and lifted up the limp black plastic bag.