Amber stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You know it’s Berger.” A big smile spread across her face, and she raised her hand. “Got the ring to prove it.”
Oh! The maiden name had thrown him. He’d recently seen her in an interview about a fundraising event for a local charity. On television, she looked taller, more natural, and not nearly so rough around the edges.
“I know,” Aunt Callie said. She shrugged. “But you’ll always be Amber Preston to me.”
“I know just what you mean.” Amber patted Aunt Callie’s shoulder and flashed a toothy grin. “You’ll always be Callie Combs.”
Ouch! Luke darted a glance at his aunt. Her thin smile told him the barb had hit its mark. Guilt washed over him. Her marital status was largely his fault. Raising him and her job at the paper had left no time for dating.
“I haven’t seen you since the twenty-year class reunion,” Aunt Callie said.
“Has it been that long?” Amber shook her head. “I could have sworn you were at the Derby party this year.”
“No,” Aunt Callie said. “First one I’ve missed in years.” She turned to Luke. “You remember my nephew, Luke Tanner.”
“Honey child.” She squeezed his fingers and studied him with jade green eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age, but I’d recognize you anywhere. You are the spitting image of your daddy.”
Jon materialized with a salad in one hand and a mountain of deep-fried goodness in the other.
“Y’all go ahead. Sit down and eat,” Amber said, stepping back from the table. “Tippy’s waiting for me.” She giggled. “Wouldn’t want him thinking I’m up to no good.” She took a few steps and looked back. “Let’s do lunch soon, honey, you hear?”
“Yes, soon.” Aunt Callie nodded. “Good seeing you.”
After they were seated again, Jon placed the salad in front of Aunt Callie and set the fried veggies with an assortment of dipping sauces between them. “Enjoy,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” Aunt Callie said. After he’d gone, she turned to Luke. “I can’t stand that gold-digging tramp.”
Luke smiled, happy to have the spotlight of her attention trained elsewhere. “I’ve seen her on television but don’t recall ever meeting her.”
“You came with me to a picnic she and Tippy hosted at Berger Place for the ten-year reunion.”
“Oh, yeah.” Luke nodded. “I remember the hay ride, the horses, being the oldest kid there, and meeting a lot of people who knew Mom and Dad.”
Aunt Callie squeezed a lemon over her salad. “I’ve known Amber since we were six years old. She’s always been boy crazy.” She blushed. “If even half the rumors are true….” She shook her head. “Then she married Tippy Berger, ten years her senior, before the ink dried on her high school diploma.”
Luke transferred a banana pepper to his bread plate with a fork and cut it into several pieces. Anyone who’d lived in Lexington for more than a couple of generations knew just about everything about each other—more sometimes than people knew about themselves.
“Tippy was already a local celebrity, having inherited the Berger fortune after his parents perished in a plane crash. The age difference made the newlyweds the talk of the town.” She chuckled. “Anyone in the county closer to her age knew she was more than a little loose. That’s why he married her if you ask me.”
“I see,” Luke said. He sampled each sauce with a piece of pepper and half-listened as his aunt went on, in between bites, about Amber’s unsavory exploits and rumors about Tippy. “How long have they been having the Derby party?” Luke popped an onion ring into his mouth.
“Oh, dear. I don’t really know,” Aunt Callie said, dabbing her lips with the white linen napkin. “A long time. Before Amber came along, it was an elegant, black-tie affair for old money in town for the spring meet at Keeneland.”
Handsome Jon returned with an oval tray over his head. He deftly opened a rack he carried under his arm and lowered the tray onto it. After removing Aunt Callie’s salad plate, he turned to Luke and gestured toward the fried veggies. “Still working on that?”
Luke nodded sheepishly, speared a slice of zucchini with his fork, and shoved it into his mouth. He’d drifted between stocky and pudgy since junior high and had come dangerously close to portly his senior year in high school thanks to free soft drinks and popcorn from his job at the Turfland Mall twin cinema. Though still not thin, he’d lost weight since leaving Atlanta and weighed less than he had in years.
As Jon delivered the entrees, Aunt Callie continued her tirade. “Not anymore. Amber turned it into a gaudy, over-the-top spectacle for gold diggers and social climbers.” She shook her head. “Just goes to show you, good taste cannot be bought.”
“Mmm,” Luke exclaimed, after a bite of beef Wellington. “This is delicious.” He licked his lips and speared another bite. “Thanks, Aunt Callie.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“Not just for dinner.” Luke set his flatware on his plate and looked her in the eye. “Thank you for taking my collect call, and everything you’ve done for me since then.” He paused. “After the way I left….”
“Water under the bridge,” she said, with a dismissive wave. “I’m glad you’re back. You’re all the family I have.”
They’d finished eating when a man wearing a double-breasted white jacket and chef hat stopped beside their table. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Tanner.” He smiled and offered his hand. “Chef Gaylord Dumas, proprietor of the Brougham House.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, fumbling the handshake. “Nice to meet you.”
Chef Dumas bowed. “The pleasure is mine.” He turned to Aunt Callie. “I hope you and your beautiful girlfriend enjoyed your meal.”
Aunt Callie giggled. “Delicious! Thank you, but he’s not my boyfriend. I’m his spinster aunt.”
“Spinster?” Chef Dumas took her hand and kissed it. “Mais non, mademoiselle. Vous êtes très belle.”
“Oh, you.” She grinned, and her face went crimson. Luke could tell she was tickled pink. “We were just about to order your chocolate hazelnut soufflé.”
Chef Dumas looked back at the kitchen and nodded. Jon came through the swinging door like he’d been shot from a cannon. When he reached the table, he presented the small tray he’d carried high over his head to the chef.
“A little gift from the Brougham House.” Chef Dumas placed a small soufflé dish in front of Aunt Callie and another in front of Luke. “Bon appétit!”
Aunt Callie watched him walk away and turned back to Luke. “He is one very handsome man. He’s not married. Not like it matters.” She took a bite, closed her eyes, and sighed. “I couldn’t trust a man that charming as far as I could throw him.”
Luke laughed. Donald Sullivan had been too good to be true too. Maybe next time, he’d know better.
When they’d finished dessert, Aunt Callie pulled a small box wrapped in white paper with a blue bow from her purse and handed it to him. “Happy Birthday.”
Luke slid the box out of the tissue paper and opened it. “A watch!”
“It’s battery-operated, so you don’t have to remember to wind it. Digital too.” She beamed. “And the face lights up when you push a button on the side so you can see what time it is in the dark.”
He got up, walked over, and hugged her. “Thanks, Aunt Callie.”
“You’re welcome.” Her eyes twinkled. “Maybe now you can get where you need to be on time.”
Chapter 5
LUKE WANTED to sink into a vat of calamine lotion to soothe the relentless itching he was too busy to scratch. The Gilded Lily was unusually crowded for the ten o’clock show. A hodgepodge of colognes, perfumes, and cigarette smoke permeated the air. By midnight, the Garden would be hopping from top to bottom.
He hadn’t finished setting up when Russel opened the gated entrance to the Gilded Lily. Charlie had called to say he was running late, and Frank had asked Luke to set up both wells.
Setting up f
or Charlie put Luke behind. He felt like a doormat and suspected Charlie was taking advantage of him until Charlie showed up with dark circles under his eyes, a two-day growth of beard, and the pants and shirt he’d worn the day before.
Luke checked his watch. The show should have started twenty minutes earlier. Delays of five or ten minutes were common. Hearing not so much as a peep out of Frank, however, was highly unusual. Russel Clark emerged from the dressing room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for Moses as he lumbered to the control booth. Frank leaned toward him, listened for a moment, and then nodded. The house lights dimmed as Russel made his way through the crowd to stand guard midway between the stage and the door to the dressing room.
“Ladies, gentlemen, tops, and bottoms.” Frank’s voice boomed from five-foot-tall speakers. “Welcome to the Gilded Lily. I apologize for the delay—we had some last-minute changes in the lineup.”
A sick feeling came over Luke. The fried appetizer and overly rich birthday dinner had hit his stomach like a rock, but this was something else. He stopped to listen as Frank introduced Simone and Kitty Galore.
“Debuting at the Gilded Lily, direct from the Broadway in Huntington, West Virginia, by Greyhound bus, that madam on a mission, Miss Mimi Von Sant!”
Cheers erupted from the far corner of the room. Guest performers traveled with an entourage for moral support, safety, and help carrying wig boxes, garment bags, cosmetic cases, shoes, accessories, and props.
“And the star of our show, Lexington’s tiny dancer, that Trailer Park Fairy, Miss Pixie Wilder!”
Luke sucked in his breath. Mrs. Maxwell was right. Something had happened to Ruby Dubonnet.
By the time Luke had served everyone at the bar, Simone’s number was well underway. Charlie came toward him, and Luke wondered what he wanted now.
“Thanks for setting up for me, man. I really appreciate it.” Charlie shook his head and finger-combed his mussy hair. “One of those days.”
“No problem,” Luke replied. He tried to look Charlie in the eye instead of staring at the tuft of orange-blond hair jutting over the top button of his shirt.
“Can you believe Ruby didn’t show up?” Charlie scratched his whiskers. “Bet it had something to do with that big fight she had last night with Frank.”
Luke furrowed his brow. “What fight?”
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard they were yelling at each other after last night’s show.”
“Really?” Luke hadn’t heard any fighting.
“Wouldn’t surprise me. They’ve never gotten along.” He adjusted his crotch and then glanced back at his end of the bar. “Oops. Customer. Catch you later.”
Most nights the bits Luke overheard were too random and out of context to mean anything. Not tonight. Ruby’s absence was the subject of every conversation.
“Mark heard she ran off with the guy who climbed on the stage last night.”
“…got pissed at Frank, packed her shit, and left town.”
“Got her an eight-ball and holed up with them go-go boys.”
“Pixie Wilder got tired of standing in her shadow.”
“Her facelift fell, and she had to go back in for a retread.”
Mimi Von Sant took the stage with a hymnal clutched to her ample breast beneath an enormous silvery-blue bouffant. She wore a floral print dress with lace around the collar, a strand of pearls around her neck, and support hose with white orthopedic heels. She made her way to the end of the catwalk, looked up to the ceiling, and clasped her hands together for a silent prayer.
After a moment, she cleared her throat. “I’m a little nervous.” She gestured to the audience around her. “This church is a lot bigger than mine.” She waited for the laughter to die down and then held up her hymnal. “Kindly turn to number 82.” She blew on a pitch pipe, echoed the note with several mes, and after nodding at Frank, addressed the congregation. “Y’all feel free to sing along, okay?”
She smiled and tapped her foot as the music came up and the audience clapped in time. When she launched into “This Little Light of Mine,” her crotch lit up. The crowd roared its approval and lined up to shower her with money.
Luke learned little about Ruby’s disappearance he didn’t already know. Opinions about where she’d gone varied, but everyone agreed her absence was odd. That something might have happened in her apartment never came up and eased Luke’s conscience a bit about not checking.
Hearing Pixie introduced was a surprise. Ruby skipped the first show and put everything she had into her sole performance of the night. But then, Ruby Dubonnet was a legend. Quirky little Pixie Wilder was no substitute for the famous entertainer.
One rumor was dispelled when the blond go-go boys came through the curtain carrying props and wearing diapers. After placing a washtub, a laundry basket, and a stool at the end of the catwalk, they sat on either side of the washtub, cooing and babbling like babies.
An enormously pregnant Pixie emerged from behind the curtain in a bright yellow sundress with long ponytails tied with big yellow bows on either side of her heavily made-up face. She waddled barefoot to the washtub, clung to the washboard she carried, and slowly lowered herself onto the stool before launching into Loretta Lynn’s “One’s on the Way.”
Charlie begged off as soon as the second show started. Luke didn’t mind. He needed the money. The crowd thinned as Simone lip-synced a Tina Turner song. The trend continued as Kitty Galore stood and modeled her way through a Whitney Houston number. Most who’d stayed to see Mimi Von Sant belt out “Down by the Riverside” left when she finished her performance. Poor Pixie Wilder poured her heart into Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” for a handful of her most devoted fans.
Pixie slipped back behind the curtain, the house lights came up, and Frank’s voice echoed from the loudspeakers. “Hope you enjoyed the show. George Johns is behind the piano in the Lavender Rose, Deejay Thom Robinette is upstairs in the Green Carnation, and the darts contest continues in the Red Poppy with the Pumphouse Posse squaring off against the Cherry Bombers.”
The speakers fell silent, the stage went dark, and a moment later, Frank emerged from the booth. Russel Clark opened the gate for him, and he hurried into the main corridor of the Garden and disappeared from view.
Tiny little Pixie Wilder came out of the dressing room and motioned for Russel to lean closer. She said something to him, gave him some money, then headed for the bar. Her auburn wig was teased high on top and cascaded past her shoulders in tight curls like a poodle at Westminster Dog Show. She had on a blue-jean miniskirt and a short-sleeved red gingham blouse knotted at the midriff with red heels and a little red bag hanging on a long strap from her shoulder.
“Darlin’, be a dear, will ya? Momma needs a drink.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Luke placed a cocktail napkin in front of her. “What are you having?”
“Black Jack on the rock.” She shook her head. “Shit. Make it a double.”
Luke grabbed a glass. “On the rock?”
She nodded. “Toss in an ice cube after ya pour the shots.”
“Gotcha.” Luke laughed. “Haven’t heard that one before.” He followed her directions and set the glass on the napkin.
She pulled a ten-dollar bill from her purse and slapped it on the counter. “Keep the change, handsome.”
“Thank you.” Luke rang up the drink and dropped the change in his tip jar.
“We ain’t been formally introduced.” She extended her hand. “Pixie Wilder.”
Luke managed his best handshake of the day. “Luke Tanner.”
“Tanner?” she smiled. “I like that. When’s your birthday?”
“Actually.” He glanced at his watch. “It was yesterday.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” She put her hands on her hips. “And you didn’t take off work?” She shook her head. “What the hell kind of Libra are ya, anyway?”
Luke laughed. “The broke kind.”
“Lot of that going around.” She tossed her head, p
icked up the glass, and polished off her drink.
“Want another?”
“No, thanks, darlin’.” She pulled a compact from her purse and touched up her lipstick. “Time to make an appearance upstairs.” She smiled. “Nice to meet ya, Luke.”
He nodded. “You too.”
She stopped a few feet from the bar and turned to face him. “Gonna be here long?”
Luke shrugged. The upside of the sparse crowd for the second show was getting most of the closing work done ahead of time. “Maybe another thirty minutes.”
“Seein’ as how yer all broke and shit and had to work on your birthday, how about a little celebration at Polly Jo’s, just you and me?”
“Sounds great,” Luke said.
“Let me run upstairs.” She shook her head and laughed. “If Frank had his way, I’d be marchin’ up and down Main Street wearin’ a sandwich board with ‘See Me Perform at the Gilded Lily’ and the show times printed on both sides.” She pointed a lacquered finger at him. “Don’t leave without me now, ya hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She strutted out of the Gilded Lily like a banty rooster. Russel closed the gate behind her and sat in a chair by the dressing room door. When he wasn’t looking, Luke thoroughly scratched his itchy spots as he shut down the bar.
Chapter 6
LUKE AND Pixie headed for Polly Jo’s a little before one o’clock. The narrow road behind the Garden ran parallel to Main Street between one-way streets going in opposite directions. The loop was heavily traveled late at night and in the early morning hours by assorted and sundry types looking for action.
Wolf whistles, catcalls, insults, and obscenities came at Pixie the moment they left the Garden from nearly everyone who drove or walked past them. Pixie didn’t seem to notice, but Luke was terrified and feared they’d get jumped before reaching the far end of the block where Bertha was parked.
Pixie grabbed Luke’s hand. “Slow down, darlin’.” She smiled. “Actin’ scared only encourages ’em.”
“I’m not acting,” Luke said, glancing around. “I am scared.” He’d parked in the same spot for nearly a month, and, even alone with more than a hundred bucks in his pocket, had never worried about his safety.
The Case of the Missing Drag Queen Page 3